We Sort Too Soon: The Journal of Severus Snape
by onoM
Summary: No," said Snape, his black eyes on Fleur's and Roger's retreating figures. "I am not such a coward." "No," agreed Dumbledore. "You are a braver man by far than Igor Karkaroff. You know, I sometimes think we Sort too soon...." Deathly Hallows, pg 680.
1. Clarity

**_Clarity._**

**_KLAR-i-tee -noun _**

**_or lucidity as to perception or understanding; freedom from indistinctness or ambiguity. _**

**_state or quality of being clear or transparent to the eye; pellucidity: the clarity of pure water. _**

I had... friends, but it always felt odd. Like I was missing my glasses, if I had needed them. Life was blurry. Muted. Devoid of any real meaning or purpose other than waking and sleeping. And then I saw her.

_Her._

She'd been on a swing next to another girl, and she jumped off at the height of her forward motion. She'd just hovered there, suspended in midair for a long moment, and floated down to land gracefully on her feet. Her red hair flashed brilliantly in the setting sun. It was as if she didn't know how she was doing it, but was content to do it all the same.

I watched her for weeks, trying to work up the nerve to speak to her. She was captivating, even from a distance. And then I finally showed myself, approached them and explained the secret she'd known all along: she was special. She had a gift. She was magical, in every sense of the word. When she looked up at me in awe, I saw her eyes. They were a brilliant, blazing green.

When our eyes met, it was as if I had awoken for the first time. Colors and smells bloomed before me, assaulting my nascent senses. Lily Evans was, in a word, _overwhelming_. Our meeting did not go the way I had planned, but I was undaunted. I saw life through a new set of eyes, and it only became clearer as time went on. By the time we reached Hogwarts, I dreaded the sorting. I told her that I wanted her to be in Slytherin, where I had been destined to go since my birth had been arranged.

Of course, that infernal hat put her in _Gryffindor_.

I had been expecting this, and I knew what I had to do. What I must do, what I was born into this sad, cruel world to do. I had, after all, had my life planned out for over a decade and followed the plan faithfully. Even now, Lucius Malfoy was expecting me at the Slytherin table. He was a prefect; he would protect me now, just as my parents had protected me all my life. Despite the deep hatred they seemed to harbor towards me, they never starved me or beat me, never left me to the elements. They kept me safe.

As I walked up to the sorting hat, I felt the eyes of the 'friends' I'd been arranged to play with since birth. I felt the burden of my destiny weighing upon me. I felt that the sorting would define me; it was a Rubicon, past which I could only move inexorably towards the fate I chose.

The hat was placed on my head, and I knew what it would say. Knew what I, in turn, must tell it. _You know, Mr. Hat,_ I thought to it clearly. _If you don't sort me into Gryffindor, I am going to steal you and drop you in a cauldron of boiling acid. I'll laugh as you dissolve._

"Gryffindor!" the hat yelped quickly. The Slytherin table was conspicuously silent, but I didn't care. The Gryffindor table cheered as I walked purposefully towards them, but I paid them no attention. I took my seat next to Lily and met Lucius Malfoy's glare from across the great hall. He seemed to think that I would put my parents plan for my life above the captivating young witch sitting next to me. I had defied my parents that day. I had defied my destiny; I would have defied God himself if he tried to take Lily Evans from me.

Within that single act of defiance, I had found it. The unconscious, unspoken question I had been asking ceaselessly since I became self-aware. I had found my answer, and that answer had led me to revelation upon revelation, all exploding like muggle fireworks inside my adolescent head.

It was glorious and frightening, in equal parts.

I had found that I didn't want Lucius Malfoy's protection. I had found that I didn't want to be safe. I had found that I didn't care to be around Avery and Mulciber any longer. I had found that I didn't care what my parents had planned for my life. I had found that I didn't care about the purity of blood. I had found that a world that would not tolerate the existence of Lily Evans was a world that I could not, and would not, tolerate.

I had found my clarity that day, in the most unlikely of places. It wasn't in the proud green emblem of Slytherin House. It wasn't in the pale green pallor of a killing curse. It was in the piercing green eyes of Lily Evans.


	2. Pariah

_**Pariah.**_

_**puh-RAHY-uh -noun **_

_**outcast. **_

_**person or animal that is generally despised or avoided. **_

_**3.(initial capital letter) a member of a low caste in southern India and Burma. **_

I don't know what I expected, derailing my life goals for a girl. An 11-year-old girl, no less. At 11, how much could I possibly know of life, women and what the future may hold? That I would recklessly charge into the unknown -damn the consequences- shows me one important fact: I, Severus Snape, am wholly and completely obsessed with Lily Evans. I have only one class apart from her, Care of Magical Creatures. I regret not taking that class merely because she is in it, and it means time apart from her. I will not make that mistake again, though I care little for the stupid, stinking creatures the class will no doubt revolve around. I will bear it happily, for she is my sustenance. I would sooner go without food and drink than without her constant presence.

It is an incredibly powerful -and exquisitely painful- feeling.

Like a noose of brambles cinching down around my heart. It gets tighter every time I see her smile. How positively terrifying, this obsession.

This emotional pain is compounded by several factors. Most of my fellow Gryffindors dislike me, and I'm quite sure that James Potter is behind it. He and his gang of imbeciles delight in pulling pranks, and I may well be their favorite target. Ever since Potter insulted Lily in front of me and I hexed his pants off in the Great Hall, he has devoted an unhealthy amount of attention to my public humiliation. Adding to this pathetic situation are my almost-housemates from Slytherin. It turns out that not being sorted into Slytherin has labeled me a blood traitor, nearly as hated as a 'mudblood'. I didn't care. The moment I found out that Lily was hated by their world is the moment their world became hated by me. I don't belong there, and I don't belong here.

It would appear I am incompatible.

Incompatible with the Gryffindors, who are reckless fools. Incompatible with the Slytherins, whose hatred seeps into every facet of their lives. The only person who anchors my life is Lily, and it seems that choosing her has alienated all others. Rather than growing accustomed to her presence, I find myself craving it in ever larger quantities. It is a greedy, selfish ambition. A remnant, no doubt, of the ambition I left behind to follow Lily.

It is, as previously stated, intensely painful.

Even so, it's okay if it hurts.

_I wouldn't miss it for the world._


	3. Adapt

_**Adapt.**_

_**uh-DAPT -verb **_

_**1.(with object) to make suitable to requirements or conditions; adjust or modify fittingly: They adapted themselves to the change quickly. He adapted the novel for movies. **_

_**2.(without object) to adjust oneself to different conditions, environment, etc.: to adapt easily to all circumstances. **_

Microevolution, or 'evolution within a system'. The ability of an organism to adapt to changes within its ecosystem. In my continued pursuit of Lily Evans, it became increasingly obvious that I must adapt or face extinction. I was her 'quiet friend'. The one nobody else liked to be around. I was becoming a burden to Lily, and I would NOT allow it any longer. Over the summer, I made a list of changes that would prove suitable, and then implemented them.

I have cut my hair to a more popular style and wash it daily. I read outside, to add pigment to my pale skin. I invested in a profligate bottle of scent. I borrow a school broom every day after lunch in order to learn to fly more proficiently. I run three times each week, perform push ups and sit ups, also I eat my vegetables. Once school began, I started answering more questions in my classes, and I even made a concerted effort not to scowl at random strangers in the halls.

I tried out for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, and was selected as the reserve seeker. This is most fortunate, because the reserve players are only required to attend one practice a week. I am thoroughly pleased with that. Not only will this be a step towards getting Lily to notice me, but since I don't have to attend every practice then I will not have to give up any study sessions with Lily and her friends, which I dearly love.

In short, I am adapting to the best of my ability.

I am in all of her classes this year, and the only negatives are that the Slytherins are still out for my blood and that once a week I must practice Quidditch on the same team as James Potter. That, and I am forcing myself to eat Brussels sprouts.

I dislike Brussels sprouts intensely, but the nutritive benefits are undeniable.

I must confess that I am beginning to hate James Potter. Before, it was simply annoyance and mutual animosity. It is growing into something far deeper now, with every new fact I learn about Gryffindor's up-and-coming chaser. He has already been handed everything that I am striving so hard to attain, and now he wants the one thing I would strive this hard for: Lily. When he stares after her like a lovesick puppy, something inside of me howls for his blood.

She can do better than him... and I hope she soon realizes that I've been right beside her, waiting for her to finally see me as I've seen her all along.

Until then, all that I can do is adapt and survive.


	4. Schadenfreude

_**Schadenfreude.**_

_**SHAHD-n-froi-duh -noun **_

_**1. satisfaction or pleasure felt at someone else's misfortune. **_

I wonder if there is anything more deeply satisfying than watching your enemies suffer? First, I switched Mulciber and Avery's doxy eggs for ashwinder eggs during potions, and the fools didn't even notice until they added them to their Hiccupping Solution. Like doddering fools, they leaned in over their cauldron to inspect the anomalous bubbles rising from within. The resulting explosion immolated half of their robes and most of their faces, and it was incredibly hard to keep the smirk off of my face as the class erupted into complete chaos. I'd hate to be them tonight, as they will most likely be regrowing a quarter of their skin. I've heard that it is quite painful, and I dearly hope I heard correctly.

It serves them right. They called Lily a mudblood, and then they vanished the bones in my left arm. Regrowing bones is also quite painful, as I know now firsthand.

Then, James Potter played a singularly horrible game of Quidditch. He has been hailed as a genius at the sport, a new star forming among us, and yet he handled the quaffle like it had been struck with an imperturbable charm and was thus incapable of being touched. I couldn't even count how many times it slipped through his grasp, to my great joy. He seemed sullen and depressed, even before the game started.

I knew why that was, of course: He'd asked Lily out, of all things, and she'd turned him down quite forcefully. Imagine, James Potter being denied something that he asked for! I took great pleasure in seeing his hopes dashed like waves against a cliff. She is so beautiful when she's angry...

After Potter fumbled a particularly easy pass, his seeker shouted at him. Potter shouted something back, and then the seeker flew right up and punched him flat on the nose! The seeker got banned for the rest of the year for the resulting fist fight!

Why am I joyous? Let me count the ways:

1. Someone finally rearranged Potter's face (quite tastefully, if I might add. His square jaw goes so well with a crooked, bloody nose).

2. I get to play in the last Quidditch game of the year, against Slytherin no less.

3. There's nothing that Potter can do about #2.

4. Potter had his hopes and dreams crushed by Lily Evans.

5. Lily Evans said that she was looking forward to seeing me play, and favored me with one of the more brilliant smiles I have ever seen in my life.

Life is good. Even having to practice every day and eventually play on the same team as Potter can't dampen my spirits. Now, if only Lily would realize that I am the love of her life... Well, one step at a time. I just have to be present, patient, and loyal in this delicate situation. I will show her that I care about her more than anyone else on this godforsaken planet.

She represents everything that is good and right in this world. Someday, I will tell her so. When the timing is right.


	5. Aspirant

_**Aspirant.**_

_**uh-spahyuhr-uhnt, as-per-uhnt**_

–_**noun **_

_**1. a person who aspires, as one who seeks or desires a career, advancement, status, etc.: The aspirants for foundation grants had yet to prove themselves. **_

–_**adjective **_

_**2. aspiring.**_

I had always wondered why seemingly calm and rational people were capable of turning into rabid beasts, all in the name of sporting events. Take Quidditch for example: Houses turn against each other. Atrocities are committed on the field and off. Why?

Well now I know.

There really is no feeling quite like the thrill of the hunt. Competition is woven into our blood. It is visible throughout nature, in the clashing horns of elk and brilliantly-plumed peacocks. The natural urge to prove ourselves worthy is certainly capable of transmitting itself into sport. Especially a sport with brooms.

It didn't hurt my competitive spirit to know that Lily Evans was watching me from the stands, either.

The Gryffindors tried to pressure me to perform perfectly, but I couldn't possibly care less about those sycophantic imbeciles. All I wanted was to show Lily that I could be just as athletic and just as tough as anyone in our school. Just as worthy.

Whatever it took would be done without hesitation. I knew that since the day I sorted myself into Gryffindor. This was merely another step on the path I had been following since the day I met Lily.

The day before the match, I had finished brewing small batches of _ocularis castigo_ and _antiphonum_ _elixer_. The first is a little-known potion that temporarily improves the eyesight of the imbiber to incredible levels. Easily thrice as good as normal. Good enough to count the blades of grass on the ground from 50 feet up, and good enough to spot a snitch from across the field. The second is one that enhances reflexes significantly. Some potions of this type are able to achieve almost precognitive results, but I was looking for something far less conspicuous and traceable.

I have yet to see a single player tested for performance-enhancing potions. Perhaps the faculty trusted their charges to maintain the highest ethical standards.

Those fools.

Still, I had to be cautious. It took over a month to order the necessary ingredients, all shipped to me in small, discreet packages to avoid suspicion. I brewed them in my trunk and only made enough for one dose of each. Each dose lasts around 6 hours, which is plenty of time for a game of Quidditch.

A game is much more enjoyable, I have found, when you are incredibly good at the game. Perhaps this is why Potter seems to hold an unhealthy affection for it. I was dodging bludgers and disrupting plays between the Slytherin chasers, flying as uncomfortably close to the green-garbed players as I dared.

It was _brilliant_.

I knew I couldn't show off too much, or I'd risk exposing my 'liquid training regimen'. Three times I spotted the snitch, and the first two times I let it be. It was simply too far away to justify my sudden movement. I was playing a delicate and dangerous game, and the slightest mistake could bring my plans crashing down around me. It was all in the timing. The pieces must be set properly before I made my move. I contented myself by stealing glances at Lily, who was clearly visible to me even from across the pitch. She had a wide smile on her face, watching the action with rapt attention. I couldn't wait until her eyes would turn to me.

The third time I spotted the snitch, it was an easily justifiable reaction. The golden ball was hovering close to the ground around the leftmost Gryffindor goalpost, taunting me. I was closer than the other seeker, whose name I hadn't bothered to listen to during the introduction, and we were significantly ahead in points. This was the chance I had been waiting for, and I took it. Kicking the school broom into a sharp dive, I pulled up at the last possible moment and caught the snitch with my off-hand as soon as the broom had stabilized. The other seeker hadn't even followed me, and I couldn't help but laugh as I saw the foolish look on his face. 270 to 80 was not a small loss for his team, I almost pitied him.

_Almost._

The thrill of victory thrummed in my veins as I held aloft the small golden ball, my worthiness clear for all to see. Lily was cheering. Smiling radiantly in the bright sunshine, her hair flowing about her in the wind... it reminded me so much of the first time we met. Her piercing green eyes hadn't changed. They still held my entire being captive.

This, all of this, was for her. The haircut, the scent, the exercise. My golden snitch. _My mortal shell and my eternal soul_. All hers for the taking, if she would only ask. Not for the first time, I found myself terrified of an emotion as powerful as this. It was dangerous to feel this strongly. It could just as easily complete me as destroy me, and I was, above all, a cautious man.

Lily hugged me tightly that night during the party in the Common Room and told me that she was proud of me. That gesture alone was worth the price. Worth any price. I thanked her and, on a whim, gave her a quick peck on the cheek. She didn't pull away, which could have been a good sign, but I didn't stay around to gauge her reaction. I bid her goodnight, then turned and disappeared into the throng as soon as I'd done it. My face was blazing and my mind was racing. Why had I done that? I had worked so hard to get to where I was at, and I could very well have thrown it all away tonight in a single moment of weakness. On a whim. What foolishness. The cheerful mood of the day evaporated as I stalked up the stairs to my dormitory, which is where I still lay, hours later.

I suppose I'll be up here until I can fabricate an excuse for my behavior that doesn't sound hollow and trite. What sounds good...

I'm sorry, Lily, it was the butterbeer talking. ..

I'm sorry, Lily, I think someone spiked the punch. ..

I'm sorry, Lily, I got caught up in the festivities. ..

This is _ridiculous_.

I'm not sorry, Lily.

It wasn't the butterbeer talking, someone most certainly spiked the punch and I absolutely got caught up in the festivities.

But I'll _never_ be sorry for kissing you.

Because _I love you_.

...

If only it were that easy.


	6. Rage

_**Rage.**_

_**reyj**_

–_**noun **_

_**1. angry fury; violent anger. **_

_**2. a fit of violent anger. **_

_**3. fury or violence of wind, waves, fire, disease, etc. **_

_**4. violence of feeling, desire, or appetite: the rage of thirst. **_

_**5. a violent desire or passion. **_

_**6. ardor; fervor; enthusiasm: poetic rage. **_

_**7. the object of widespread enthusiasm, as for being popular or fashionable: Raccoon coats were the rage on campus. **_

_**8. Archaic. insanity.**_

–_**verb (used without object) **_

_**9. to act or speak with fury; show or feel violent anger; fulminate. **_

_**10. to move, rush, dash, or surge furiously. **_

_**11. to proceed, continue, or prevail with great violence: The battle raged ten days. **_

_**12. (of feelings, opinions, etc.) to hold sway with unabated violence. **_

—_**Idiom**_

_**13. all the rage, widely popular or in style. **_

I found her lying in a hallway on the fourth floor.

They wanted me to find her lying there. They even went through the trouble of writing me a note.

They wanted me to understand.

Understand what, exactly?

That no matter who you were, you were not safe in Hogwarts.

You were not safe anywhere.

Her bleeding, broken body was to be a testament to that.

My blood ran cold when I saw her.

"Sev..." she whimpered as her body shook uncontrollably. Her cheek was bruised and there was a small gash above her eye. The robes she wore were torn in several places, but I couldn't see the extent of the damage. There was no blood on the floor, which could be a good sign, but I'd have to work fast to ensure she was stabilized. I had no time to waste on being emotional; there would be time for that later.

I shushed her gently as I eased back her robes, exposing the clothes underneath. Her arms looked to be badly bruised but intact, and there were numerous lacerations on her abdomen and legs. Some of them appeared to be deep, but she had been pressing her robes to them to staunch the flow of blood. Smart girl. Her wrists had abrasions on them, but they weren't deep enough to cause significant bleeding. Her right leg was bent outward unnaturally, and I felt my jaw clench tighter as I noticed that her shirt was halfway unbuttoned. Some of the buttons were missing, too. It didn't seem like they'd violated her, but I couldn't know for sure.

_How dare they._

Lily, having been made a prefect this year, had given Avery detention for harassing a second-year. He'd called the young boy a mudblood and kicked him over when he went to pick up the books that had been knocked out of the child's hands.

Avery's face went a bright shade of red when Lily came over and shouted at him. She gave him a week's worth of detention and deducted twenty house points for his cruel behavior.

He swore that she would regret it.

She swore that she wouldn't.

God, she was brilliant when she was angry.

He stormed off, and I reminded her that he wasn't alone. He had friends, and they were all as cruel and vindictive as he was. She didn't care. There wasn't anything they could do about it, since she was a prefect now. It's why she became a prefect in the first place, to finally show those Slytherins that their actions wouldn't go unpunished any longer.

I reminded her that she was only one person, and there were at least five of them.

She shook her head and smiled at me. "No, Sev. There are two of us."

I nodded firmly, returning her smile with a genuine one of my own. "Of course, Lily." She couldn't have known how true that statement was.

We had known about their allegiances since last year. They were pureblood fanatics, led by a former student named Tom Riddle. They advocated a school free from muggle-born students. A school for only the magically pure.

A _world_ for only the magically pure.

That was their idea of utopia.

Death Eaters, they called themselves.

And now, they had attacked Lily. Which of them were foolish enough to ignore the warning I gave them?

"Who did this to you?" I asked, tracing my wand delicately over each of the wounds on her stomach. The flesh knit together once more, leaving only pale pink scars. She gasped at the sensation. I knew it to be quite uncomfortable, but not painful. Madam Pomfrey would have potions that minimized the scarring, but some of them would never be fully removed. She would bear the marks of this attack for the rest of her life.

"Mulciber... Avery." Her voice was hoarse; she had to swallow several times to get the words out. My heart twisted painfully inside my chest. Her injuries were serious, but not life-threatening. They were making a point.

They were making an example out of her. They had taken her and hurt her just to show the students what happened to those who defied them.

I shushed her once more as I continued to work.

I let out a sigh of relief as the last of her cuts closed up. There had to be internal injuries, but I couldn't do a thing about those. My knowledge of healing was limited to the selections in the Library, which were all very basic. I knew how to make simple potions and heal common injuries, but I wouldn't be able to order higher-level books until I sat my OWLs.

I had warned them not to harm her.

I had told them -in no uncertain terms- not to even touch her. Because if they did... then I would come for them.

They had laughed it off, and I had let them walk away.

Perhaps I should have made my point more forcefully. It may have kept this from happening.

"I need to get you to the hospital wing. I don't know how to fix your leg..." Shame flooded me. I hadn't been there to protect her, and I wasn't able to fix her. I didn't even know a spell that could ease her pain. There were potions that I could have brewed for that, but I had none on my person and had none in stock. My ignorance was almost too much for me to bear.

I would have to make it a point to carry around several types of potions and items at all times from now on, just in case. Pain potions, bezoars... there was much I lacked.

I transfigured her robes into a crude splint and tried to ignore the gasps of pain she emitted as I attached it to her injured leg. "I know it hurts, but I have to immobilize your leg or it could get more damaged. I'm going to move you now."

Levitating her prone form, I quickly brought us to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey pulled her onto an empty bed and went straight to work, and I couldn't help but watch closely as she discarded the splint, ran diagnostics and rapidly worked through several rather complicated-sounding spells. My mind was scrambling to keep up with her wandwork and commit it all to memory.

I wouldn't let this happen again, but if it happened, I would be fully prepared.

After several tense minutes, Madam Pomfrey relaxed and turned to me, picking up the transfigured splint and holding it out to me. "What happened, child? I see you did your best to heal her before you brought her here. It's best to leave that to me, since you could very well worsen the damage if you use the wrong spell. In rare cases it can be fatal."

"There won't be a next time, if I have anything to say about it." I muttered darkly, taking the splint from her and returning it to the shredded robes it had been before. "I didn't do anything drastic; I just had to stabilize her before I moved her here to minimize the shock to her system. Thank you very much for fixing her."

Madam Pomfrey just nodded with a knowing smile. "You've done well, Mr. Snape. You should know that this is passable work for a trainee healer; I wouldn't have expected it from a fifth year. You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

My eyes met her pleasant brown ones, and I forced a tight smile. "I'd like to think so, Madam Pomfrey."

She had no idea what sort of 'surprises' I was planning.

As I sat next to Lily's frail, sleeping form, I felt my blood begin to boil.

I had warned them that she was off-limits. They were more than welcome to come at me however they saw fit, but not her. Never her. If they hurt her, they would be punished. They had been warned, and they had crossed the line.

* * *

I surprised the Death Eaters the next morning with a meeting before breakfast. I was waiting for them outside the Great Hall, and they lined up in front of me in a row like prisoners on a firing line. Avery and Mulciber were both right in front of me, and three of their cronies were beside them.

Pathetic.

Whoever taught them to use magic obviously failed to teach them basic tactics.

My voice couldn't hide the malice behind it. I was out for blood this morning. "I told you not to touch her. I warned you!" I bit off the last sentence and stared at them, gauging their reactions. We were already fighting; they just didn't know it yet.

"Are you angry, blood traitor? Do you want revenge for what we did to your little mudblood girlfriend?" Avery jeered, reaching leisurely for his wand. Several of the others snickered. "She screamed nicely. A healthy set of lungs on that little freak."

"Did you rape her?" I asked, my blood pounding loudly in my head already. Their fates would rest on this question.

They all laughed, and Mulciber answered my question with a note of disdain. "Us? Sully ourselves by taking a mudblood? Who knows what sort of diseases she has. Merlin knows what's lurking down there, if half the rumors about her are true... It was just a bit of fun."

Okay.

They could live.

_Perhaps._

"And which of you planned and participated in this 'bit of fun'?" I grit my teeth quietly, clenching my fists tighter.

They looked at each other, smirking, and then Mulciber retorted, "Why should we tell you, Snivellus?"

The corners of my mouth curled up in a cruel smile. "Because I am now challenging whoever planned or participated in the attack on Lily Evans. If you are guilty of this, then follow me into the next corridor and we'll settle this like real wizards. If you weren't involved, you can just watch the fireworks from the sidelines. Unless, of course, you're afraid of losing to a blood traitor like me."

They all looked at one another uncertainly, but their numbers bolstered their confidence.

Without waiting for an answer, I strode down the hall to the next intersection and turned down a smaller, darker corridor. I didn't want to be disturbed by any teachers just now.

The two followed me quietly, looking around to check for teachers and stray students. The hallways were entirely empty, thankfully. Their lackeys trailed after them, eager to witness another easy victory. They seemed to assume that I was doing this only because I didn't know what I was up against.

The tragic fact was that I knew exactly what I was up against. Avery and Mulciber were the only people who made decisions in that group, though of course they all probably thought it was a great idea. They were two pathetic purebloods who had been spoon-fed vitriol their entire lives, who had no higher aspirations than being cruel to those less 'pure' than they were. They were substandard students, failing to excel at even one subject. They were completely inept at all but the most basic magic, but I'm sure they had practiced very hard to learn the few truly dark spells they knew.

They were accustomed to fighting a single opponent. They were decently proficient in flanking and ambushing people in the corridor and they reveled in causing pain, especially after their prey was disarmed and at their mercy. The element of surprise was usually the cause of their victory, as their opponent was almost always disarmed before they even knew they were a target.

They would not find me to be easy prey, nor would I fall victim to an ambush. I was too aware of my surroundings for that. But I would play to their tune, just this once.

I would do this properly, by the only laws they recognized. I would remind them why it was a very bad idea to cross me, and an even worse idea to harm Lily Evans.

"Very well," I began, drawing my wand from my pocket and turning towards Avery. "I challenge you to a Wizard's duel. Choose your second and state your terms."

Avery's eyes widened slightly, but he smirked and nodded at me after only brief consideration. "Mulciber will be my second, but of course I won't need him. I'm really going to enjoy this, blood traitor; it's been a while since I've had a proper duel. If we are victorious, you will never raise your wand to either of us again, even to defend yourself or Lily Evans, while you still breathe." He raised his wand skyward in salute and awaited my terms. He was going strictly by the book.

Fool. As if I would ever agree to terms if the battle was not decidedly in my favor.

"If I am victorious, both you and your second will never harm Lily Evans again, nor will you allow her to come to harm in your presence, while you still breathe." I intoned, and raised my own wand skyward. Sparks shot out of both of our weapons and made it official. I could feel the binding magic settling around me and constricting like a second skin.

"No doubt your usual opponents are either asleep or unaware of the fact that they're about to be attacked. With that in mind, you may have the first attack." I drawled, a small smirk finding its way onto my face.

Avery's eyes flashed angrily. He raised his wand and sent a curse at me with a shout. It was too loud by half, and too easily recognized. A basic cutting curse, was it? How crude. I would show him something a tad bit more refined.

I would give him a taste of my own magic.

I conjured a polished steel shield in front of me with a flick of my wand and met the cutting curse with it, and then banished both halves of the heavy shield towards Avery. He dove out of the way of the metal projectiles with a yell.

"Sectumsempra," I whispered with a cruel grin, and sent my newly created spell towards the place that Avery had dove. He should have banished them and remained upright, but perhaps he lacked the ability to banish two things at once. As he was now prone, he had no way to dodge the curse. He didn't even put up a shield. It wouldn't have saved him, but it might have lessened the damage.

The _fool_.

He let out a startled gasp as the spell impacted him square in the chest. A long, deep wound etched into his torso, neatly separating the flesh in a diagonal line. He tried to speak, but the only thing that came out of his mouth was a loud gurgle punctuated by a blood bubble.

I immediately sent the same spell at Mulciber, who hadn't even raised his wand yet. Rather than preparing himself to take his first's place in combat, he chose to stare in horror at Avery, whose blood had already begun pooling around him. His head finally jerked towards me and his eyes widened as he felt the curse cut into him, and I watched in grim satisfaction as he sank to his knees. Dark red blood poured out of the wound, staining his black robes an even darker shade. He looked down and shook his head back and forth in spasms.

Whether his head was shaking in disbelief or in shock, I didn't care. I had beaten them at their own game. Two purebloods raised in a purely magical home, indoctrinated into the old ways. Two wasted childhoods. Two reluctant students. Two spoiled teenagers. Two cruel and apathetic wizards. Two men with death wishes.

I had granted their unspoken wish.

I had become Lily's avenger, merciless and unrelenting.

I had never felt more alive, more powerful. They were completely at my mercy, completely overtaken. Silently, I summoned their wands and caught them with my left hand. They watched in horror as I dropped them at my feet and set them on fire.

I had won, so their wands were mine to do with as I pleased. And I would make sure they knew that they had been utterly defeated. Several sparks shot out of the wands as they burned merrily. I smiled in satisfaction at their ashen faces.

They would never harm Lily again. Even if they survived, the terms constituted a permanent, binding magical contract.

And, much to my surprise, they did not die.

Although, that may have had more to do with their 'friends' dragging them off to the Hospital Wing immediately as opposed to any sort of uncommon fortitude on their parts. If they would have just laid there bleeding, much as they had left Lily bleeding, I have no doubt they would have been dead within ten minutes.

Needless to say, Madam Pomfrey was not pleased with my work this time. I'm quite sure it wasn't the type of 'surprise' she expected from me.

But isn't that the very nature of surprise?

Hypocrite.

* * *

I was summoned to Headmaster Albus Dumbledore's office, regardless. He was not angry, but he seemed... intrigued. "Mr. Snape, please sit down." He was quite calm, and not at all as I expected him to be.

I took the offered seat and my mind started racing. It was as if I suddenly realized that actions had consequences. I had not even considered the repercussions of nearly killing two students in a Wizard's duel. I couldn't believe my lapse in judgment. In my rage, I had not even bothered to conceal my identity.

I guess that subconsciously, I wanted them to know that it was me. I wanted to see the look on their faces. I wanted them to know the face of the wizard that they were never to cross.

Because of my recklessness, I was going to be expelled from Hogwarts.

No classes.

No study sessions.

No Quidditch.

_No Lily_.

I looked up at the headmaster from my seat and waited patiently for the verdict. If I was to be punished, I would take responsibility and face my fate head on. I felt a small, ironic smile tug at the corners of my mouth at the thought that I was, in fact, acting quite like a Gryffindor today.

"You've had quite an eventful week, Severus." the headmaster intoned seriously. "I'm sure it was quite traumatic for you, finding your best friend in that state."

I didn't know where he was going with this, so I just nodded mutely. It was, after all, quite traumatic.

"And I'm sure that you now deeply regret taking such overtly violent actions against your fellow students, do you not?" he queried in a deceptively innocent tone.

"Of course I regret it!" I spat, unable to take this irritatingly calm interrogation. The Headmaster fell silent and listened as the anger I had felt for the last twelve hours bubbled over the edge once more. "If I am to be expelled, then expel me already but do not waste my time with talk!"

I regret doing it so soon.

I regret that they could prove it was me.

I regret not having a better plan than 'see them, hurt them and make them promise not to do it again'.

The Headmaster chuckled in decidedly maddening way. "You seem to be laboring under a false pretense, Severus; I am not going to expel you."

My heart nearly stopped beating. The certainty of expulsion had been hanging over me like a hangman's noose, and now it was as if I was given a stay of execution.

"Thank you, Sir. I... I don't know what to say." I admitted humbly. I had been given detention several times, of course, for my ongoing wars with both Slytherin and some of Gryffindor. I had not, however, been given any punishment that I would deem harsh. It seemed that nearly killing two of his students would have caused him to be at least moderately severe in his disciplining.

"I would like to ask... why?" I asked steadily, betraying no hint of fear. My curiosity easily overcame my fear that he would change his mind. He had already assured me that I was not going to be forced to leave; it was no longer a concern of mine. For if you couldn't trust your own Headmaster, who could you trust?

Headmaster Dumbledore nodded as if expecting the question, "Quite simply, to keep you from being punished by those outside of the law. Your victims, and yes they were victims," he added sharply as I tried to protest, "are the firstborn children of two very well-connected pureblood families. They would surely try to take your life in retaliation for your actions today, and I'm quite certain that they would eventually succeed."

The Headmaster sighed and rubbed at his temples tiredly. "As you have foolishly agreed to terms, it is now impossible for us to completely obliviate the knowledge of these happenings from you. It is also impossible for us to punish someone for no apparent reason... Therefore, all involved parties shall be sworn to secrecy in this matter. You will be permitted to tell Lily Evans, as she was part of the reason for this... incident, but no one else.

"However, you must not under any circumstances repeat the mistakes you have made today. If it is justice that you seek, then please come to one of the faculty with the issue before taking action in the future." The Headmaster nodded his head dismissively, which I took to be an indication that I was allowed to leave.

I stood, but my mouth opened almost before I knew it. I knew I was damning myself with this confession, but I didn't care. If I couldn't tell the world, then I would tell the headmaster alone. "It wasn't justice I sought today, Sir. It was vengeance. They brutally attacked, so I responded in kind. Violence is the only language that these 'Death Eaters' understand. I warned them not to touch Lily Evans, and they disregarded my warning. This was merely the logical conclusion of their actions, Professor."

"Just Lily, you say?" the Headmaster queried, a look of understanding dawning. He didn't seem at all surprised to hear the term 'Death Eater', which was not unexpected. His blue eyes began twinkling in a decidedly irritating manner.

I nodded grimly, wondering why it had been so easy for me to reveal my powerful attachment to my prefect. It wasn't like me, and yet I found that revealing it to this wizened old man was as natural as the dawn. Perhaps he had affected me with a compulsion charm. I found that I did not care. "You seem to realize, then, why I did not bother considering such trivialities as 'consequences'. To be honest, up until I sat down in your office, I did not realize that my actions had any consequences at all. I was simply a man defending what he held dear. Surely, you understand."

Having said my piece and received no answer except a very pregnant silence, I gave a curt nod, turned and left. Considering the excitement of the last ten minutes, I was surprisingly calm.

Of course, I would have to run into James Potter soon after leaving the Headmaster's office. He cornered me just down the hall and leaned in, as if he wanted to confide in me. I noticed something silvery sticking out of his pocket, which he quickly tucked away.

One might ask why I would agree to speak with Potter in an empty hallway for any reason whatsoever. Truthfully, I wondered that myself afterwards.

That, and I had narrowly escaped expulsion today. I wasn't going to tempt fate by drawing my wand on another student in the same 24-hour period just to get away, even if it was Potter.

"Listen, Snape, I know what you did." Potter whispered.

It might have been the quickest that I've ever been proven wrong.

I had my wand out and leveled at his face before he could blink. "Who told you?!" I whispered back, perhaps more fiercely than absolutely necessary. My continuing Hogwarts education depended on keeping this a secret, and I'd be damned if I let Potter get away with ruining it!

He raised his empty hands in a sign of peace.

I didn't lower my wand an inch.

"It doesn't matter who told me, what matters is that I won't tell anyone. I just want you to know... you know..." Running a hand through his messy black hair, Potter sighed and tried again.

"Thank you, okay? Thank you for getting those Slytherin bastards back for hurting Lily. I just wish I would've known earlier, so I could've helped." he admitted quietly.

Why was he telling me this?

And more importantly, why did he think I cared?

"I neither needed nor required your assistance, Potter. What is the meaning of this?" I demanded, letting my wand point drop slowly.

James glared at me. "Dammit, Snape, I'm trying to be civil here. Look, I've been thinking... and I was wrong about you."

My eyes widened slightly. Was James Potter... apologizing?

He continued on in a quiet, insistent voice, "Look, we may have some bad blood between us, but I want to try to put it in the past. Can't we just... start over again? I heard you in Dumbledore's office, and anyone who cares that much about a fellow Gryffindor can't be a bad person. I, James Potter, am sorry for all the horrible things I've done to you."

He held out his hand, obviously desperate for some worthless gesture of camaraderie. "Truce?" he asked, hopefulness etched into his features.

Gods, but he boiled my blood.

"I don't know what you heard, Potter, but you should forget about it. There IS bad blood between us, and it isn't going anywhere. No, we cannot start again, and I am most assuredly NOT sorry for all the horrible things I've done to you!" I snapped at him, biting off the last few words. I was determined to stamp out this nonsense before it had a chance to take hold in his mind.

He looked hurt. His hand faltered, and then extended even further towards me. He looked determined, as well.

How positively heartwrenching. I'm sure that angelic choirs were staging nearby for their grand entrance. I could see it now: we'd clasp hands in a masculine way and pat each other on the back, admitting that we were wrong about each other and apologizing for this and that. Tears would flow, 'hallelujahs' would chorus, we'd end up being the best of friends and I'd make damn sure that he was a groomsman at my wedding. To Lily Evans.

Who would subsequently become Lily SNAPE.

I would've laughed at the image were I not so incredibly, ludicrously _furious_.

Had the man gone totally mad? Did he truly believe that this was all it took to erase a half-decade of steady insults, pranks and curses? I was tempted to bite him as hard as I could, simply because it'd be less likely to get me expelled than magically expressing my wrath.

In fact...

"Get your damn hand away from me, Potter, before I gnaw it off!" I growled, baring my teeth.

He snatched his hand back and his eyebrows disappeared up into his hairline.

I was so lost in the fury that I didn't care who heard me. I was practically shouting now, even though he was perhaps a foot and a half away. "Whatever brought on this touching little scene, you seem to have misunderstood some things. Let me clear a few of those up for you: there is NOTHING but bad blood between us, and it will take a lot more than a HANDSHAKE and a few cheap words dangling from an olive branch to bury FIVE YEARS of outright LOATHING!"

My eyes, I'm sure, were spitting tongues of fire at that moment. James looked positively horrified.

I had just put two Slytherins out of commission and not gotten a single detention for it, and then thoroughly immolated the hand of reconciliation that James Potter had extended to me for some mysterious reason.

I probably even made that little Nancy-boy cry.

I couldn't remember a time when I had felt more ... satisfied.

I was sure I'd feel even better when Lily woke up. She was still in the Hospital Wing, and it was time that I returned to her.

I shoved the black-haired ponce aside with a scowl and walked calmly towards Madam Pomfrey's domain. The wounded and thoroughly confused look on James Potter's face was etched forever into my memory.

_It was glorious._


	7. Confession

_**Confession.**_

_**kuhn-fesh-uhn -noun **_

_**1. acknowledgment; avowal; admission: a confession of incompetence. **_

_**2. acknowledgment or disclosure of sin or sinfulness, esp. to a priest to obtain absolution. **_

_**3. something that is confessed. **_

_**4. a formal, usually written, acknowledgment of guilt by a person accused of a crime. **_

_**5. Also called confession of faith.**_ _**a formal profession of belief and acceptance of doctrines, as before being admitted to church membership. **_

_**6. the tomb of a martyr or confessor or the altar or shrine connected with it. **_

She is drifting away from me; I am sure of it now. During her recovery from the brutal attack on her, Potter visited her every single day in the hospital wing. I did the same, but sometimes I would walk in and they'd just be staring at each other, their faces far too close for my liking. The day before she got out, I saw him holding her hand while she slept. I would've hexed his eyes out, had I not recognized the look I saw on his face.

I should know; it is the same one that I've had since I met Lily Evans.

It was then that I knew, and the following weeks only confirmed my revelation: They were getting close. James Potter had finally noticed what I had seen in Lily all along. They had come to some sort of arrangement in that Hospital Wing. She no longer called him an arrogant toerag and he no longer turned her hair green.

This was _terrible_.

I had to do something. All of my plans, all of my contingencies, they were useless. I had not planned for this. Who could have foreseen it? So I did the only thing I could: I reacted rashly.

I reacted in the only way I still could.

God help me, I told her the truth.

It was not as I imagined it. Instead of a picnic under the birch tree by the lake, or a candlelit dinner for two, or any one of a number of scenarios I had hoped for. It happened after potions. It happened in a dank, dark hallway in the labyrinth dungeons beneath Hogwarts. The moisture accumulates on the walls there, casting an ethereal glow around the wall sconces. I am sure that Lily did not find it entrancing.

I should have known not to speak when she asked that fated question.

She had asked me why I did it. Why I nearly killed two fellow students.

I could have lied and told her it was because I felt my life was in danger, but it wasn't. I couldn't say that, because I had promised myself that I would never lie to Lily Evans. If she wanted to know something, anything, then I would tell her without fail. So I told her the truth.

"I did it because they hurt you." I thought if my voice was quiet enough, she would just drop it. She didn't, of course. Her tenacity was one of the many things I loved about her...

She responded with an equally quiet voice, as if sensing the gravity of the occasion, "They've hurt others before, and you've never reacted like that. Why?"

_You know why, you silly girl. Do you really need me to spell it out for you? Am I not obvious enough?!_ I felt irritation rising in me, but it was tempered by the knowledge that she seemed just as terrified of where this was going as I was. "Those others were never you." If she wanted the truth, then I would give her the truth! I locked my eyes to hers, defiant. Questioning. _Do you really want to know, Lily? Then ask again. All you ever had to do was ask._

"Why, Sev? Why is my safety more important than theirs?"

There it was. I had been dreading this question, but now that it had been asked I felt only a sense of finality. It was quite like the ringing of a bell. I felt, for perhaps the first time in my life, the deep peace of certainty. I wasn't certain how this encounter would end, only that it would indeed end here. It permeated me, enveloped me, and it was with an exultant shout that I answered her. Finally, I would no longer have to bear the burden of a hidden heart.

"Because _I love you_, Lily!" I heard her gasp at my words, but I continued. Logically, I felt that the moment I stopped speaking was the moment she would respond. I wanted to keep that moment from happening for as long as I could, so the words just kept flowing out of my mouth. "All these years, without ceasing! From the moment our eyes met, I _knew_ that I would never love another! You have always been-"

Rather than find out what she had always been, tears formed in her eyes. Without bothering with such pleasantries as 'oh, look at the time,' she turned on her heel and ran for the stairway as fast as her legs could carry her. I was left standing there, staring after her with a sort of numb, clinical detachment. Aware of myself, but not in myself. My mind was mercifully blank.

Oh.

_Oh._

I'm not entirely certain how my body got to the astronomy tower, but even as I write this entry I am witnessing what could be the most beautiful sunset in the history of the world. I am still in shock from the day's events. I'm sure that reality will crash into me once more, but I think my mind is waiting for a sign. Some answer clearer than the falling of footsteps. A reason to rejoice or lament. I am not one to waste emotions, after all.

I cannot help but draw parallels with the setting sun. It is still shining, without a doubt, but it is falling away from my sight. It is falling towards someone else, leaving me devoid of its presence and its warmth. Leaving me exposed to the bitter depths of a silent, uncaring night.

Leaving me...

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

It's all in the timing, and it appears that I have missed my chance.

Or, perhaps, I never had one to begin with.

I can't decide which would be worse.

Why don't I feel sad? Or angry, or frustrated? Rather, I feel nothing at all. Like my mind has decided that feeling the pain of this night would be too terrible and has gone into hibernation, waiting for the sun to rise again.

But the sun may never rise again.

And I can't even find a tear to shed for it.

_Fate, then, can be nothing more than the sickened, baying cry of a cruel world._ How perfectly tragic...

I expect I will be writing again as soon as I remember how to cry.


	8. Platonic

**_Platonic._**

**_pluh-ton-ik -adjective_**

**_1. of, pertaining to, or characteristic of Plato or his doctrines: the Platonic philosophy of ideal forms. _**

**_2. pertaining to, involving, or characterized by Platonic love as a striving toward love of spiritual or ideal beauty. _**

**_3. (usually lowercase) purely spiritual; free from sensual desire, esp. in a relationship between two persons of the opposite sex. _**

**_4. (usually lowercase) feeling or professing platonic love: He insisted that he was completely platonic in his admiration. _**

"I'm sorry, Sev. I'm so sorry..." Tears were forming at the corners of Lily's beautiful green eyes as she spoke those harsh words with a quiet tenderness that belied their meaning. She needn't have bothered. She couldn't have made her intent any clearer if she were screaming at the top of her lungs. She had made her choice, and it was Potter.

Always Potter.

Handed a perfect life on a silver spoon, and now this. Now _Lily_.

I could feel a terrible ache boiling up within my chest. Driving me mad with the insanity of it all; the unfairness of it all. I had been there, ever since the beginning! I had helped her, protected her, encouraged her!

_I had loved her first!_

My teeth were grinding silently together, keeping my mouth firmly shut as she kept whispering, kept on with her useless attempts at placation. I didn't hear anything she said after 'I'm sorry'. It finally became too much to bear. Sorry, was she?

"Well I'm not!!" I barked; my voice was hoarse with the emotion of it. I must've sounded a bloody fool. "I'm not sorry, Lily. How can I be sorry for the way I feel?!" I was so angry with her, so hurt by her utter rejection. Hurt by the fear she now showed on her face. _Did she truly think that I could hurt her, even now?! After everything I had done for her, everything I had sacrificed for her! All for her!_

My shoulders sagged as I let out a shuddering breath.

So this was it.

This was the consequence of my years of devotion.

This was the agony I had been anticipating, _dreading_ since the day that my eyes first met hers in that field so long ago.

_It was everything I had hoped it would be. _

Even so, I'd be damned if I let her see me cry. I could feel the barriers breaking; I could feel the moisture building in painful pinpricks at the corners of my eyes, stinging me. I scrubbed at them angrily with my sleeve as I choked back a sob. I covered it with a cough, but she knew.

_She had always known._

That was the crux of it. She had always known how I felt, and she had chosen to ignore it all this time; chosen to let me believe that I had a chance. She had chosen to let me believe that there was hope.

For all that I knew of Lily Evans, I wouldn't have dreamed that she could be cruel enough for that, and yet here she was. Breaking my heart... breaking my hope.

Breaking _me._

_God_, but it was painful.

I couldn't let her see me crumble. I wouldn't let her see this. I needed to be alone, away from her tender green eyes. I turned without another word and stepped away from her, but she caught my arm with her hands. Her touch still electrified my skin, even as it shattered my brittle heart.

"Sev, please..." I whirled around to face her again as her whimper cut into me, and saw that tears were already streaming down her cheeks. "Please don't..." She sniffed, and I felt my chest constrict.

"Don't what, Lily?" I half-laughed, half-sobbed at the absurdity of it. "_Don't what?!_" She was staring at me with a look that I didn't recognize at the time. I recall it now: pity.

Lily Evans pitied me.

_What a wretched man am I..._

I couldn't stop sobbing and laughing. I laughed so hard that my sides ached and my lungs burned. It was _hysterically_ funny. I was no longer a participant in this colloquy of my broken dream. I was an observer, watching this sick play unfold from beyond the fourth wall and finding it all just hilarious:

**After waiting until the last moment, after sacrificing his hopes and dreams for the girl, the protagonist finally confesses his true feelings. He is soundly rejected in favor of the mortal enemy of the protagonist, the one man that the protagonist would never accept. The one man who had everything, and yet wasn't content until he took away the only thing the protagonist cared about in life. **

It had flair. It was an epic in the scale of Homer and Gilgamesh. A tragedy that was surely causing Shakespeare to roll over in his grave, having not written it himself.

And it was just _so goddamn funny_.

I lost something inside of me, right at that moment.

I think it was called 'Hope'.

I could feel it leaving, strangely enough. It was snatched so quickly from me that it took my breath away. It didn't make me feel empty, necessarily. As it was pulled from me, the only difference I felt was the cold. It was a sudden, pervasive chill that emanated from the Hope-shaped cavity inside of me. I simply couldn't bring myself to care any more. I just wanted to be alone, to process this overwhelming sadness that had broken inside of me. My laughter paused abruptly as I made a decision.

I turned and walked away.

She didn't stop me this time, thankfully, but I could hear her sobs over my half-choked chuckling all the way down the hall. I managed not to run into anything, though my tears had blinded me. They streamed down my face in hot rivulets.

Even after everything that had happened... each one of her sobs still cut me like a knife.

_What was wrong with me?_

* * *

I hid out in an empty classroom until well after dusk, just blankly staring off into the inky darkness. I was seated against the wall and the frigid granite on my back and legs mirrored the feeling in my bones; the impenetrable cold pushed into me reassuringly.

What was I going to do now? I had already told Lily what she truly meant to me, what she had always meant to me. We could never go back to the way we were before, that much was obvious. But what could I do about it now? What good would it do?

It wasn't hopelessness that welled up inside of me just then; it was _fury_. It was a rage deep enough to drown in. I stood up shakily; my mind was so focused on my anger that it had precious little ability to process minor details like balance or making coherent sentences.

I screamed my pain and swore into the darkness, I cried until my eyes were sore. I shouted until my lungs were exhausted, until my voice had all but disappeared.

I raged against Fate, against whomever I could imagine; against Godric Gryffindor and his damnable House; against every singer of love songs, every hopeless romantic and every 'happily-ever-after'. I raged against my parents. I raged against whichever god had allowed this twisted plot to unfold.

I demanded justice; I demanded _mercy_. I had been denied, even after years of agonizingly selfless devotion. I had been denied, and I demanded compensation.

I received no answer, no compensation, and I raged about that, too.

And after my sobs had finally subsided, I felt drained. _Finally empty._

Empty of the pain, empty of the rage. I was so tired of it all. I sat against the wall and allowed my mind to focus as my gasping breaths quieted. Logically, I couldn't blame her. It's not as if we got to choose whom we loved, after all. Love was a torturous curse. There was no cure, save for death itself.

But what did that leave me with? What had I sacrificed for, if not our future together?

I thought about it for long hours, until I was interrupted.

James Potter had somehow found out that I was not in my dormitory, and what's more, he seemed to know exactly which classroom I was hiding out in.

His eyes were ablaze with anger, curiously, and the locking charm he put on the door made his intention transparent. I was too tired to move from my spot, but I watched with veiled interest as he paced before me. It reminded me of a wolf cornering a wounded animal and searching for the best direction to close in and finish it off. The only light in the room was coming from his wand, and it cast trembling shadows from his clenched, shaking fist.

Potter's face was grim and hard in the actinic wandlight. "I just sent Lily off to bed. She came to me after Potions sobbing hysterically, and she only just now calmed down. I couldn't even make out individual words for about an hour or so. After that, all I could make out was 'Sev'. I don't know what you did, and she won't tell me why she was so sad, but she did eventually tell me that she deserved it."

He shook his head disbelievingly. "If there's one thing I know it's that Lily Evans _never_ deserves to cry, _never_ deserves to be hurt. _What did you do to her, you bastard?_" His voice was deadly serious.

I found this rather ironic, considering that James Potter had devoted a good portion of his young life to developing new and interesting ways to make Lily Evans cry. Like the time he vanished her eyebrows right before the Winter Ball in 5th year. She was going with me, and I was very much looking forward to an entire night dancing with her.

Instead, she spent the night in the Common Room with me, and I remember thanking Potter silently for being such an arse, as it meant that she was crying on my shoulder. Ignoring my protests, she took me by the hand and dragged me toward the fireplace and we danced for a short while to a silent song. She kept pulling me closer, insisting that I wasn't going to break her. I think she just wanted to be held for a while. Her smell, the heat of her skin, her small, cold hands clutching at my back... she was every bit as overwhelming as the day I'd met her.

She held me tightly as we rocked back and forth in small circles, complimenting me on how strong I had become. She teased me—ever so lightly—about other girls starting to take notice of me, insisting she was the jealous type. I can't remember a time when I'd ever blushed so hard. I blamed it on the thick dress robes and the nearby fire, of course. Then she kicked off her shoes and we spent the rest of the night reminiscing about all the times that Potter had been hexed.

I didn't tell her, but most of those hexes had been mine. It was rather odd: being complimented indirectly by your best friend for something that she didn't know you did.

That night was one of my most cherished memories. We didn't kiss, unfortunately, but there was a moment in there where our eyes met, and I was sure that she leaned in ever-so-slightly. I wanted to kiss her more than anything just then, but I was terrified of what it would do to our friendship. I was a _coward_. I wished now that I would've just leaned in and let the consequences be damned. All the same, she was more emotionally intimate with me that night than she had ever been. It was euphoria; a pleasant intoxication of the heart. I kept thinking that_ this_ was what married life should be like. Just two people, sitting together on a couch in front of a fireplace and keeping no secrets between them. Comfortable. Content.

I managed a weak smile in remembrance, and with that perceived slight, James struck. He punched me in the face, sending me crashing sideways to the floor. Motes of light danced across my vision from the impact of it. I couldn't even work up the energy to defend myself as his foot rammed savagely into my stomach. I was so tired, so drained that I couldn't even work up the will to curl into a ball.

I had run out of tears; all that was left was the bitter cold. The pain was intense, of course, but it was also warm. Fiercely so.

I noticed through my haze that James had set his wand down. So he planned on doing this the old-fashioned way, did he?

_Good. _

The more his punches and kicks rained down onto my unresisting body, the more I realized how almost... _nice_ it was, to finally have my inner pain mirrored by my body. I had been in perfect health but dying on the inside for so long that this sudden equilibrium was novel, perhaps even craved.

On some level, I think I wanted him to hurt me. I wanted him to damage me until this foolishness had left me. I wanted him to hurt me until the sadness went away. Until the pain coursing through my physical body finally overwhelmed the searing agony that seethed inside my chest.

I couldn't even blame him for doing this, really. It's what I would have done myself, wasn't it? It's what I had done before, to the last people who hurt Lily.

I had hurt her just as surely as Potter himself had for years. And this was the consequence.

Potter was merely her avenger, merciless and unrelenting.

_That used to be me._

I let out a hoarse laugh at the sudden reversal of roles, I the tormentor and Potter the savior. _Ironic, isn't it_...

My short laugh only seemed to spur my attacker on, and my laugh cut off abruptly as he kicked me viciously in the face. My head snapped back and hit the wall from the force of it. I felt the cartilage in my nose shatter from the blow, and the blood rushed to my face in such torrents that I was sure I had just gotten two black eyes. The pressure building behind my eyes was becoming immense. The pain made my vision blur further, but still I couldn't bring myself to defend my body. I wondered if my eyes would lose their sight from this damage, since the periphery of my vision had already faded to a grey haze. I had lost the will to fight, the will to move. What did it matter if I went blind from this? What was the point in ever lifting my arms again?

It's funny, how the mind drifts when the body is in agony. As if the mind doesn't want to witness the damaging of its vessel, lest it be damaged in the process. My mind drifted to the abstract when reality became too painful.

I can honestly say that I've never felt more philosophical than when James Potter was kicking the life out of me.

I guess I am damaged, then...

After Potter had knocked me around for a while longer, he seemed to grow tired of it. Or perhaps, he grew tired of my failure to put up a fight.

He spat on me in disgust as he hovered over my prone figure, giving it one last kick for good measure. "You can't even defend yourself, you're pathetic... Don't let me catch you hanging around Lily anymore, or I'll hex you so bad that you won't be conscious enough to take your NEWTs!"

With that, he glared down at me for another long while, as if giving me a chance to get up and retaliate at long last, and then he shook his head. "You're not worth it, _Snivellus._"

Snatching his wand from the table he'd placed it on, he stomped over to the door and canceled the locking charm. As he opened the door, my faded sight caught the reflection of a wall sconce on the floor. It was my blood. I had bled enough that there was a smooth black pool surrounding my head.

And then the door shut, and all that was left was the darkness.

I wasn't angry: anger took energy, and I had none.

I wasn't sad: sadness expressed itself in tears, and I had no more to give.

Instead, I found myself thoughtful. I considered his parting words as his well-aimed spit cooled on my face and my wounds burned electric.

Ever since the sorting, I had derailed my entire life to follow Lily Evans. I had placed my hopes and dreams on her, bet every single knut on her. She was the one thing that I loved in this life. She _was_ my life.

Now she knew the truth; she did not love me in return. I could not satisfy her. I was not worthy of her. I gave her every last inch of myself, and it was not sufficient.

So what good were NEWTs?

What good was it to defend myself?

What good was it to ever get up off of this cold, hard floor?

It wouldn't take back what I had told Lily. It wouldn't make her love me. _Nothing_ could make her love me. Nothing ever could, and it took me until now to realize it.

_She'll never love me._

I closed my eyes as that thought repeated itself ten, a hundred times, until I lost count and consciousness fled.

I slept, however intermittent and fitfully, on that unforgiving floor, in a small pool of my own blood and James Potter's saliva, alone, bruised and freezing cold.

It seemed fitting, somehow.

* * *

When I awoke, every part of my body was sore. I was quite sure I had caught a cold, and the broken nose and black eyes that Potter had most assuredly given me were throbbing magnificently. Sometime during the night I'd suffered a cracked rib, and the grating pain was thoroughly distracting. I opened my eyes, but couldn't make anything out. My vision was so blurred and light-sensitive that I could barely see my hand in front of my face. _Perhaps this was permanent?_

The thought didn't bother me as much as I thought it would. What was there in this world worth seeing, anymore? Potter and Lily, hand in hand? Sharing a good morning kiss over breakfast in the Great Hall?

I'd rather go blind, thank you very much.

I was only a stone's throw away from the Hospital Wing, and I wondered if I had subconsciously picked this spot _hoping_ that Potter would come after me. I had to get cleaned up for classes, so I stumbled down the silent hallway with my hands stretched out in front of me, feeling for obstructions that I might miss with my muddled eyes.

Pomfrey didn't even bother asking why, but she did ask if there was anyone left in the halls that she should be picking up. I would have smiled, if my face hadn't been so tender and swollen. I settled for shaking my head. _Not today, my good Madam. Just one victim: my hope. It's dead, and I'm quite positive that you don't have a cure for that. _She gave me several dark potions and left me to my musings.

Overnight, my entire paradigm had shifted on that smooth granite floor. I had found my own personal bodhi tree in an abandoned classroom at Hogwarts. I didn't hate Potter or Lily for their actions yesterday. That thought allowed me to take the next announcement with a disturbing level of calm.

Madam Pomfrey informed me, in an exceptionally sad and contrite voice, that although she managed to save my left eye, my right eye would never see clearly again. She told me that I might also suffer exceptionally painful migraines every so often from now on, due to the blunt trauma to the front of my head.

She taught me a simple glamour charm that would hide the milky sheen that now covered my eye, so the other students wouldn't notice, and wrote me a recipe for a potion to alleviate the worst of the pain during my migraines. I accepted all of this with a lucid detachment. She seemed utterly shocked by my passiveness, but what else was there to do? All I could do was accept it.

And I _would_ accept it. I would have to adapt again.

This was my world, now. My cold, cruel, sad little world. Hate wouldn't change it, anger wouldn't change it and self-pity wouldn't change it. Therefore, I would not attempt to change it. I would simply accept it as it was, at face value, and live as best I could under the circumstances.

I would never forgive Potter, and I would happily watch him burn to death, but I couldn't hate him for what he did. I was perfectly capable of hate, but I didn't choose to hate him for yesterday. It seemed paradoxical, but it made perfect sense to me.

I waved away the pain potion and binned the recipe, despite Madam Pomfrey's stern admonishment that I would need them desperately. I didn't dare tell her the truth; it was pain that connected me to this world. It was pain that kept me warm. It was pain that kept me alive.

Pain was the one thing in my life that I could truly call my own.

_I have earned this pain; it is my _right_ to feel it. _

Potter met me in the Hospital Wing before breakfast with a ridiculously contrite look on his face. I wondered if he found the blood that I hadn't bothered to clean up on the floor of that classroom. "Look, mate, I'm really, _really_ sorry about last night. I reacted before I knew what was going on, and I had-"

"I'm not your mate, Potter." I said without the slightest hint of anger. My voice was still hoarse and raspy from last night. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. What did I have to be angry about? It was the way of the world. Getting angry didn't change the fact that Lily didn't love me. "Moreover, don't apologize. I don't care if you're sorry, and I don't care if you reacted before you had all the facts. I would have done the same thing in your position."

Potter's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "But yesterday-"

"Was yesterday. If you're worried about me telling Lily, _I won't_. If that's all you came for, then get the hell out of here, Potter." I said, waving my hand dismissively. I hoped that would satisfy him. I had much to think about, and his presence was irritating. Try as I might, I couldn't help but dislike the man.

Potter hadn't moved. He seemed like he wanted to say something, and he kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "That's not it... Severus." He used my first name, for perhaps the first time ever. What on earth did he mean by that?

He continued, still fidgeting. "It's just... Lily told me what you said yesterday. I just wanted to tell you... I know what you're feeling, you know? To like Lily, and find that she doesn't-"

"_No._" I cut him off with a quiet intensity that startled him, and continued evenly without waiting for his retort. I felt my blood pressure rising dangerously as I spoke. He, who had never suffered a day in his life; never been denied a parent's love. He, who had been born with or handed everything that I had sweat and bled to achieve! _He dared to compare us?!_ "You have _no idea_ what I'm feeling, Potter. You have no idea how I've felt, long before our time at Hogwarts. You have no idea what I lost yesterday and I don't expect you ever will.

"You have absolutely no idea what I lost, Potter, because I lost my life yesterday. _I lost my entire life from start to finish._ I took a gamble and came up short. What's worse, I don't care about that nearly as much as I care that Lily was so sad about it. That should tell you everything you need to know." I met his eyes evenly; not feeling the slightest urge to cry about something really should have affected me more.

I had run out of tears. I had embraced my sadness, and it was now as much a part of me as my own hand.

James, on the other hand, looked at me with mournful eyes. Oh, there was that sensation again: pity. I wouldn't stand for it.

"Come off it, Potter. I've had quite enough of your bleeding heart. Save your pity for the weak, and get the hell out of my sight!" I snapped at him, pointing towards the door.

This time, thankfully, he acquiesced.

Twenty minutes later, the anti-swelling potions had worked their magic. I no longer had black eyes, and several angry bruises on my back and chest had paled considerably. Now for the nose...

Putting my thumbs on either side of my nose, I set it with a wet popping sound. As a testament to how thoroughly I had cried last night, I couldn't even produce one tear for the searing pain that accompanied this action.

"_Episkey._" I muttered, feeling my nose regain its previous, unbroken state. A warm washcloth later, and I looked semi-presentable. My right eye still tracked with my left, but it was impossibly blurry now. I canceled the glamour and stared appraisingly at it. There was a glossy white patina over it that was quite noticeable. Good thing I'd applied the charm before Potter came down. I silently reapplied it with a tap and dried my face gingerly. Madam Pomfrey assured me that the tenderness would go away in a few days.

Nobody would ever know.

_Especially_ not Lily Evans.

* * *

I stopped outside of the Great Hall, peering in from the corridor. Lily was in there. With_ James. _I felt that irrational feeling of unfairness welling up within me again, and I quelled it ruthlessly. I had experienced enough of life to realize that it was not fair. It was time for me to accept that. _I would not get my happy ending._ I had to decide what my priorities were.

Strangely enough, I found that they had already been decided: Lily was, and remained, my number one priority. If I couldn't be the one to make her happy, then so be it. I would do whatever I could to make sure that she was happy with someone else.

Even if that person was James Potter.

My first priority would always be Lily's happiness.

Even if that meant never moving past platonic.

And no matter what, _I would never hurt her again._

I decided to give her time. She had just been through quite an ordeal, after all. I wouldn't make an attempt to speak to her until she approached me first. I'd just have to get used to avoiding the Great Hall and start getting to classes at the last minute.

* * *

It took an entire week for her to approach me.

Seven days of barely contained agony. Seven days of trying to ignore the fact that she now sat next to Potter in every class they shared, as well as at meals, as well as in the Common Room. They were practically inseparable, much like we had been.

"Sev, can we talk?" Lily asked timidly.

"Of course, Lily," I answered as nonchalantly as possible. I had been waiting for this, but it wouldn't do to sound overeager.

The truth of it was that a single week without Lily's voice very nearly drove me mad. I wanted to hear her voice again, to see her smile again... and I simply didn't care what it cost me. My pride was a small price to pay for my sanity.

It would be painful, though. Terribly painful. I'd have to withdraw. I'd have to tell her that I didn't love her to keep her near me. I wasn't entirely convinced that I could do it.

As I saw her face, though, my resolve hardened. I could not lose her friendship, whatever the cost. Even if it meant never holding her again, I would do it gladly to keep her happy.

And all I had to do was lie to her, convincingly, for the rest of our lives.

Such a simple thing, really. It was as easy as dying...

She led me to a nearby hallway and immediately blurted out, "I'm so sorry! I feel terrible about treating you that way, and I really wish that I could change the way I feel, but I can't. You've always been there for me, Sev; you've always been so good to me. And now this... I just wish-"

"That we could go back to being friends? I'd like that, Lily," I interrupted calmly. My voice was steady, natural. I had rehearsed this. I knew what she was going to say, and how I must respond. My face was carefully neutral.

Her eyebrows rose hopefully, "Could we, though? I mean, I don't-"

"You won't be leading me on; you've made your feelings as clear as they can be made. Honestly, I'm a bit embarrassed. I've been thinking a lot about my own feelings, and perhaps I was wrong to say... what I said. I certainly feel strongly towards you, but I'm beginning to wonder if I mistook my affection for love, when instead it feels more protective. Familial, even. I've never had a sister, you know..." I trailed off uncertainly, and of course she was eating it up.

I had to convince her to take my feelings as those of a brother, rather than those of a lover. It was going to be hard, but I had become rather good at lying to Lily Evans.

Her gaze was locked onto my glamoured right eye, and I felt an irrational surge of irritation. It felt like she was staring at someone next to me, even though I knew she was simply looking into an eye that was no longer capable of returning her gaze. As much as I wanted her to direct her attention to my other eye—merely so I could feel that familiar spark of connection—I knew that my words would be immensely easier to recite if I kept this small level of detachment between us.

So I let her continue staring searchingly into my blind eye, and she regarded me with a cautious curiosity as I continued to speak, "I guess I was just frightened. You weren't spending much time with me anymore, and I was afraid of losing you. So I overreacted, and I said things that hurt you; for that I am terribly sorry. I know it will take a while for you to trust me again, but I would like another chance."

I had to focus on cutting away all pretenses of romance. My brow was knit in concentration as I spoke my lines, which I hoped she took as hopefulness. "Please, Lily, don't cut me out of your life. I refuse to believe that the events of this last week are enough to end our friendship. You have been an important person to me. Forget what I said, forget what happened. Just be my friend. Please, don't leave me alone."

Such sad, desperate words... they would have broken my heart to say them, had my heart not already shattered irreparably. Now, I just hoped that she would believe the words that I could not.

She didn't quite look convinced, but she nodded reluctantly. "I'm glad to hear you feel that way, but this seems to be exactly what you think I want to hear. Is this really what you want, Sev? I don't want to hurt you..."

I smiled my first real smile in weeks.

_Oh Lily, you silly little girl._

_I wonder if you have any idea how much pain your presence has caused me over the years. You must not, if you are still contesting that you don't want to cause me pain. You'll never know how deeply you have cut me._

_Because you have also shown me the greatest joy I have ever known._

_I said this once before, years ago, and it remains true to this day-_

_It's okay if it hurts. _

_I wouldn't miss it for the world._


	9. Betrayal

**_Betrayal._**

**_bi-trey-ul -verb_**

**_1. To deliver into the hands of an enemy in violation of a trust or allegiance: betrayed Christ to the Romans._**

**_2. to be unfaithful in guarding, maintaining, or fulfilling: to betray a trust. _**

**_3. to disappoint the hopes or expectations of; be disloyal to: to betray one's friends. _**

**_4. to reveal or disclose in violation of confidence: to betray a secret. _**

**_5. to reveal unconsciously (something one would preferably conceal): Her nervousness betrays her insecurity. _**

**_6. to show or exhibit; reveal; disclose: an unfeeling remark that betrays his lack of concern. _**

**_7. to deceive, misguide, or corrupt: a young lawyer betrayed by political ambitions into irreparable folly. _**

**_8. to seduce and desert. _**

I knew it would happen eventually, but I honestly didn't think it would hurt this much to watch.

I didn't know I was still _capable_ of hurting this much, actually.

Apparently, I did not run out of tears to cry when Lily broke my heart. They must have replenished themselves in the months following that particular fiasco.

Lily Evans and James Potter are now officially a couple.

And what's worse, Lily seemed quite nervous as she told me. As if I was really going to slip up for such an obvious twist.

Surely, my acting could not have failed to convince her. I have played perfectly my role as the contented, asexual male friend. I have not once hugged her in an inappropriate manner or for an inappropriate length of time. I have not stolen glances at her out of the corner of my good eye when she wasn't looking. I have not once made advances towards her or hinted towards anything beyond a platonic relationship. I have not once suggested that Potter was anything less than a model student and a suitable match for her.

I still haven't told anyone that my right eye is now functionally blind because of Potter's misguided retaliatory aggression.

I have, in short, been lying to her very capably.

And yet she must still sense some lingering affection, or else still remember the words I spoke so carelessly to her all those months ago.

Well, that was not an unforeseen problem. It simply meant that I would have to convince her further. I had been rehearsing this, as well. "Finally! I was wondering if you two would ever realize the chemistry you shared." A wry smile appeared on my face as I patted her on the shoulder.

The barest contact with her still sent shockwaves of electricity shooting up my arm. I fought back the urge to regurgitate my supper.

Potter and Evans.

_How perfectly revolting._

Lily beamed at me and let out a breath that she had obviously been holding. "Oh, thank you, Sev! I was worried that you..." her eyes widened as she very nearly spoke her mind. Honestly, she should have known better. Bringing up the elephant in the corner showed a distinct lack of decorum, especially since I was trying in vain to _butcher_ that damnable elephant and dispose of its corpse quietly.

Instead of a frown, however, I quirked my right eyebrow curiously. The glamour that covered my glassy, useless eye slid with it. "That I what, exactly?" I let out a soft chuckle. Oh, how I _loathed_ pretending to be playful. Especially when all I wanted to do was cut Potter's face off so I wouldn't have to see the gloating look on it.

Thankfully, my acting was flawless. She didn't pick up on my fantasies of focused brutality.

She never did.

"Oh, it's nothing, really. I was just worried that you were still nursing a grudge against him. You would have some right to be angry, you know. He did used to prank you constantly, and you haven't exactly been the best of friends for the past six years!" she admonished happily, relieved that I wasn't exploding in rage.

Of course I'm not exploding in rage, Lily.

That would mean losing you forever.

And that was something that I _just could not do_.

"Of course I'm not nursing a grudge! We all do things like that when we're young, and I admit he has grown on me. He's certainly not the arrogant toerag he used to be." I let out a short laugh, nodding my approval.

_No, I don't approve. _

_No, he hasn't grown on me. _

_Yes, he most certainly _is_ the arrogant toerag he used to be. _

These were things that I just couldn't afford to say to Lily Evans.

I couldn't afford to say them to anyone, actually, as the only people that I spent any amount of time around were Lily and Potter themselves. I neither needed nor wanted another friend. Lily Evans, even though I hardly spent any time alone with her anymore, was wholly sufficient.

I had realized months ago that if I wanted to stay a part of Lily's life, I would have to accept that Potter was becoming an increasingly large part of it.

Or 'James', as I now refer to him aloud.

He seems to know that I still dislike him, somehow, but he doesn't seem to care.

And more importantly, he hasn't told Lily of his findings. Perhaps he is just like me, willing to make sacrifices to ensure her happiness, even if that means being friendly when you'd much rather fight to the death.

The fact that I can now draw parallels between my behavior and Potter's is thoroughly sickening.

It's odd, how things work out. I'm sure we could have been good friends, in fact, if he hadn't been so intent on stealing the only thing in my life that ever mattered to me. But he did leave me her shadow, and for that he has my despondent gratitude.

So I just smiled at Lily, even as another piece of me died inside.

_I knew this would happen eventually. I allowed this to happen, because this is what will make Lily happy. I must accept it. I must adapt._

Through my smile, I confided, "Honestly, Lily, I'm just happy that you finally found someone." My mind—always seven steps ahead of my mouth—appended silent, caustic adjectives.

_Someone popular..._

_Someone handsome..._

_Someone that finally measured up to your expectations..._

_Someone that I hate with a startling amount of passion, all things considered..._

_Someone that isn't _me_..._

What a bitter pill to swallow.

I never let her see me cry; never let her see my moments of weakness. So I listened to her gush about when it happened, and how, and where... I listened to every excruciating word, smiling ever-wider as a familiar, burning agony tightened inside my chest. I was getting much better at holding the hurt inside, though. Her bright green eyes were wide and excited. Her smile caused her whole face to light up with joy.

She never once smiled like that for me.

Only for _him._

_God damn him._

The pain of it warmed me from within. It was a blessed relief, as pain was the only thing I felt anymore.

It felt nice to feel something again, even if it was painful.

_Especially_ if it was painful.

After all, the pain was my sacrifice. A sacrifice I made every day for Lily's happiness, for her carefree smile.

Even after all this time, it was still worth it.

I didn't cry until I was locked safely in my dormitory, and then I drained myself dry yet again. My tears were replenishing faster than ever these days. Perhaps because they came so frequently now, I was building up a sort of stamina. My only consolation was that I only cried half the volume, since my right eye had been blessedly devoid of tear ducts since that enlightening night in the abandoned classroom.

I felt the sharp pinch of an impending migraine, and gritted my teeth against the sudden explosion of pain. My tears fell faster as I clutched at my temples uselessly, feeling my pulse hammering against the inside of my head. I seethed against my traitorous veins. I still hadn't gone back to Madam Pomfrey for the pain recipe, even though I swore through the duration of every episode that I'd go get that damnable potion the second the agony receded enough to let me walk again.

Truthfully, the migraines only happened when my heart ached; the reason I had never collected the recipe for that pain potion was simply that I was completely unable to let go of anything that was remotely linked to Lily Evans, even if it hurt as bad as this. So I lied to myself over and over as my mute screams rose in crescendo alongside the searing pain of my migraine, knowing that there would certainly be another episode equally as painful as this one, and soon.

As I soaked my pillow for the third time that week, I quietly thanked whichever brilliant mind invented silencing charms.

I'd hate for word of my weakness to get back to Lily.

That would've ruined all the time and effort I'd put into convincing her that she wasn't the love of my life.

And I just couldn't allow that to happen.


	10. Martyr

**_Martyr._**

**_mahr-ter -noun_**

**_1. a person who willingly suffers death rather than renounce his or her religion. _**

**_2. a person who is put to death or endures great suffering on behalf of any belief, principle, or cause: a martyr to the cause of social justice. _**

**_3. a person who undergoes severe or constant suffering: a martyr to severe headaches. _**

The first thing on my mind when I woke up this morning in St. Mungo's: _Lily got married yesterday._

To _Him_.

She had finally been wed to the man that had opposed my existence ever since I was sorted into Gryffindor; the man that became a rival in the war for Lily's affections; the man who had won that war. The man who took away everything that I held dear. The man who just yesterday bonded himself inextricably to the only one I'd ever love.

Lily got married yesterday.

To _James Potter._

_And I helped him do it._

Perhaps the sorting hat was right to put me in Gryffindor.

_I am a fool. _

I was with Potter on that fateful morning, and I was doing my best not to think of how incredibly easy it would be to hex him into oblivion, to make him miss his wedding to the love of my life. Instead, we were picking up our dress robes. I was in the wedding party, of course, and it had required immense sacrifices. I had to be nice to Potter, and I had to settle my differences. I could forgive him for his pranks, for his tomfoolery, for his childishness and his arrogance. What I could never forgive was simply that he had stolen from me the one thing that I loved, the only thing I ever truly needed in this life.

_I will hate him forever for that. _

But even though I was asked to be a part of her wedding, which is quite possibly the cruelest thing that Lily has done to me, I could never hate her for it.

I am, if nothing else, a liar without equal. I have hidden my feelings behind a painted smile; buried them within me, where even the most accomplished legilimens could never uncover their depths. How could she know that I still loved her with all my heart? How could she know that it was no falsehood when I told her that I would never love another?

But James knew. He always knew, and he made me come in spite of it. Brought me out here in spite of it. Oh, how I wished he would catch an airborne and particularly virulent strain of death, and soon.

But it couldn't happen; I wouldn't let it happen. I would work my fingers to the bone to save his life; I would expend every last magical and muggle resource available to me, through no actions of his own. I would save his life simply because his continued existence was important to Lily. No matter how cruel it was, I could no more let her be unhappy than turn back the tide or stall the dawn.

So of course, when four Death Eaters apparated into the street and strode purposefully towards us, I was only torn with indecision for as long as it took me to reach my wand. I felt the anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards snap into place around us as they approached. This had been planned. Someone had told them... but who?

"Don't even think it, Potter," I said, biting my words off harshly as he stared menacingly at the masked figures quickly bearing down on us. "Lily is waiting for you, and she'd never forgive me for letting you get hurt today. I'll take care of this."

My mouth curled back in a snarl as I recognized the rolling, deliberate gait of Lucius Malfoy. His wife, Narcissa, had been announced as carrying their heir recently. Was he so eager to leave his unborn son fatherless?

It is no boastful exaggeration to say that I am not a man that many would wish to duel against. My passion for the Dark Arts has enabled me to master many deadly magics, many of which are silent and terrifyingly effective. I was certain that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would target Lily, just as the Slytherins targeted her, and that I must be stronger than any number of them in order to protect her. I have trained my body with zealous dedication, knowing that some day it would all be worth it when I saved her.

I only wish that it could have been under different circumstances. It was, like much in my life, not as I envisioned: fighting to get a man I hate to his wedding to the woman I love. Truth is much more cruel than fiction, sometimes...

James wasn't moving. He was reaching for his wand, the bloody fool... "Let's go!" I roared, causing his head to snap towards me in shock.

He looked at me with a strange emotion playing across his face. It almost looked like frustration. "But what about-"

"Shut up," I cut him off with a snarl. "You've got a wedding to attend, remember?!" Unbidden, my selfish ambitions rose up within me. If I simply ran here, Potter would most likely die. I would be there to pick up the pieces...

I shook my head as I dragged him down a side alley, reaching into my inside pocket for the one potion I prayed I would never have to use.

Why was I always so eager to play the martyr?

_Enough._ My useless musings silenced with that single command.

I swore that I would never make Lily cry again. It was time to prove it. That was all that mattered.

Pulling out the small, nondescript black flask, I uncorked it and savored the deep golden color for a brief moment. I drained the swirling liquid in one gulp, and then re-corked it while giving Potter a look of the deepest loathing. "For the next thirty minutes, James, I need you to ignore that damnable Gryffindor courage. Just do exactly as I say, and _do not ask me why_."

To his credit, he did not question it. Even Professor Dumbledore could not have suspected that I knew how to, or was even _capable_ of brewing this potion.

I felt a sense of infinite possibility stretching out in front of me. _We should head west_, I thought as I pulled Potter along beside me. "Stay close to me!" I yelled at him, running hard down the alley.

I pushed his head down as a killing curse sailed through the space he had just vacated, then shot my own back over my shoulder with barely a clue where the attacker was coming from. I had never cast a successful killing curse before, but now it seemed impossibly easy to summon up the hate required. Hate I had; it was a constant companion. My hatred was explosive when Lily's happiness was at risk. A startled shriek that cut off instantly was all the proof I needed that I had brewed the _Felix Felicis_ successfully.

Allowing myself a rare moment of pride in my prodigious abilities, I pulled Potter down another back alley and knew instinctively that we were approaching the edge of the anti-apparition barrier.

James ducked behind a stack of crates as a purple jet of light shot past us. I ducked in behind him and shouted over the din, "You need to find Lily as soon as you get to Godric's Hollow, they'll be arriving there soon! Get her out of there, or get help and fight. I don't care what you do, as long as the end result is her staying alive. Promise me that you'll protect her, Potter."

"You know I will." he answered solemnly.

I can honestly say that I had never felt more torn than I did at that moment. All my ambitions were taunting me. Every instinct in my body told me that this opportunity was the providence I had imbibed. That I should break the man in front of me; allow him to be killed so that I could finally be with Lily. _Felix_ would ensure my success...

_No!_

I grit my teeth and blew a hole in the wall of the building across the alleyway, conjuring a metal shield to protect us just as more jets of light blasted our cover into high-velocity shrapnel. The shards of metal and wood clanged harmlessly against the summoned steel as we both ran as one into the new entryway. _Felix_ assured me that the anti-apparition wards would expire at the edge of the room, and that James really should be going now. The Death Eaters were coming.

"Severus... thank you." James had never looked more sincere than at that moment. He reached out his hand, desperate once more for some worthless gesture of camaraderie. _Was he serious?!_

Gods, but he still made my blood boil... "Get the fuck out of here, Potter! Go!" I shouted, shoving him violently into the next room and out of the barrier's range. His eyes widened as he passed the edge of the anti-apparition ward, then he turned on the spot and disappeared with a loud crack.

With a sigh of relief, I tightened my grip on my wand and turned back towards my foes. My eyes narrowed in fury as I heard their footsteps approaching. Only three of them left. With _Felix_ coursing through my veins, they wouldn't stand a chance. How unfortunate for them that the cage they built around us would only serve to keep them from escaping with their lives.

_Be patient,_ I told myself as the footsteps drew nearer. I could hear them whispering now.

_It's all in the timing. _

A powerful blasting curse collapsed the outer wall on top of all three of them, and three cutting curses finished them off. The only mercy I would grant them was a moderately quick death. As much as I enjoyed the idea of torturing them, there was more work to do. Even now, more Death Eaters could be arriving at Godric's Hollow.

I apparated there and linked up with at least ten members of the Order of the Phoenix, conspicuously _not_ making eye contact with Lily. I couldn't bear to look at her right now: it would distract me terribly. Lily and Potter were members of the Order, and I had pondered the idea of joining but dismissed it.

I didn't care about the war. I only cared about Lily.

And truthfully, I couldn't bear to be near her as frequently as I used to anymore. To my shame, it took me days to recover after visiting her. My self-worth consistently dwindled to nothing the moment I saw her, and inevitably led to another mind-numbingly painful migraine, because her stunning features brought with them the unassailable knowledge that, despite my best attempts, I had never been good enough for her. Despite everything I had sacrificed, she never once considered me a match.

_She never once considered me a man._

That particular realization had given me a migraine that lasted half a month, though it felt like several lifespans at the time. I'd locked myself up in my house and not opened the door once until the pain had receded. I lost my job as a potions maker at the local apothecary, to my displeasure. I had lost nearly 20 pounds by the time the pain let up, and several times during the ordeal the pressure in my head became so intense that blood had actually seeped out of the corner of my blind right eye. It was only due to my borderline obsessive stockpiles of various potions that I was able to survive, using rehydration and three-meal potions at scheduled intervals.

The only part of those two weeks that I took pride in was the fact that, even though it was readily available, I still did not drink the pain potion Madam Pomfrey had recommended for me. It was two straight weeks alone in a hell of my own creation; my salvation was within arm's reach, and I still chose the pain. I still chose Lily.

I had been consciously distancing myself from her lately, as well. I suppose I was trying to lessen the blow that was scheduled to occur at 5pm tonight. Or perhaps I was trying to forget about everything we'd gone through. Whatever the reason, it was most certainly in vain.

Knowing that an attack was imminent, we disillusioned ourselves and waited in hiding for the telltale sound of apparition.

We did not wait long.

Perhaps thirty seconds had passed before the first crack happened. It was immediately followed by half a dozen more, and suddenly spells were flying in every direction.

I lost myself in the carnage, finally giving in to the hatred that had seeped into my bones. They had dared to attack Lily, and on her wedding day!

The war had always been distant. Articles in the Daily Prophet or whispers among the common folk. Now it was on our doorstep, and I was not pleased.

They had attacked Lily.

_They had crossed the line._

I remember shooting a spell at the back of one Death Eater which cut him nearly in half, and just like that the fight was over. Five of the Death Eaters were captured and two were dead.

I had killed both of them.

Those fools in the Order were still playing games. Their enemies were fighting to kill, and they were stunning them! I would have laughed at the absurdity of that logic, but it wasn't the time for such things.

Something didn't sit right with me. _Felix_ was pulling insistently inside my head, directing my thoughts.

Just before James told them all that there was going to be an attack, Peter disappeared into Potter's house. He stayed in there for the duration of the attack, and came out just as everyone was coming to their senses afterwards.

The man was a coward, of course. I had known this for years.

What I didn't know was how Death Eaters had managed to find James and me in Diagon Alley, and how they had known _precisely_ when and where Potter's wedding was going to be.

Someone had to tell them, of course, but who?

Naturally, I suspected the coward.

If it wasn't him, then I'd rip memories out of every mind I came across until I found what I was looking for.

"Peter?" I called to him as I approached with my wand still in my hand.

He turned his beady eyes to me and said cheerfully, "Glad you made it, Severus! That was-"

"_Legilimens!_" I shouted, forcing my way into his mind brutally. He went stiff as a board, whimpering pitifully for several seconds as I tore through his mental barriers. They were as fragile as glass. Weakling.

In the matter of perhaps fifteen or twenty seconds, I had found the memory I was looking for.

A memory of him, kneeling before a throne in a darkened room.

* * *

_"Master, please, I... I can tell you where Potter is getting married!" his wheezy, high-pitched voice cried out as he was subjected to the cruciatus curse.

* * *

_

"_Incarcerous_!" I yelled, wrapping Pettigrew in ropes. He fell backwards onto the grass as he yelped in surprise. In an instant, his body disappeared. I was shocked, until I saw a small brown rat scurrying out of the tangle of ropes. So that's how he got away with all those pranks...

I shot him with an impossibly well-placed body-bind curse, and he again went stiff as a board. Before I could move to collect him, Potter intervened, and _Felix_ let it happen this time.

"_Expelliarmus_!" James said firmly. My wand flew out of my hand and three wands trained on me. James' was among them, and his voice was fierce as he shouted, "What in the bloody hell d'you think you're doing, Snape!"

I glared at him as Lily gasped. Was he really that dense?! "Pettigrew betrayed you both to Voldemort! He gave you all up to save himself. I would have killed him on the spot, but I assumed you would want to question him yourself!"

The commotion that erupted after this was chaotic, but I didn't care. I was furious beyond words.

Those Death Eaters had come after Lily.

Voldemort had targeted her.

They would have killed her today.

_Lily Evans would have died today. _

Her eyes would have closed, never to look at me again. Never to smile at me again.

Rage like I had never known was pulsing through me. My fists were clenched so tightly that my fingernails drew blood from the palms of my hands. I welcomed the pain; it distracted me from the all-encompassing fury that possessed me.

* * *

They decided to have the wedding anyway, not allowing the Death Eaters and Voldemort to interrupt their lives.

How perfectly Gryffindor of them.

_How perfectly tragic._

I watched her coming down the isle, watched the look of nervous anticipation as she stood next to _James_, swore to be his alone for as long as they both shall live. I couldn't tear my eyes away. She looked exactly as I imagined that she would.

_Inimitable._

The man standing next to her was James Potter and I, instead, was the groomsman.

The irony of it was not lost on me.

I bit my tongue harshly as the officiator asked that ridiculous question, "If anyone objects to the union of these two souls, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."

I didn't trust myself to breathe for those long seconds. I had made my mind up long ago, and I would not dare to ruin what was supposed to be the happiest day of her life with my petty and utterly worthless objections.

_As long as she is happy, I can be at peace. I will never object to something that makes Lily smile._

The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur. I saw them kiss for the first time ever, and I realized that she'd never been that physically affectionate with Potter in my presence up until now. She had done everything she could to minimize my pain, and for that I was thankful.

I smiled as the tears built up behind my eyelid. I clapped with the crowd as they were announced: _Mr. and Mrs. James Potter._

I suppose that's as final as anything.

She truly was radiant.

The reception passed quickly, and I allowed myself one single dance with her. I tried not to think about what would certainly happen later that night as I held her as close as propriety would allow.

I wanted nothing more than to crush her to my chest, to take in as much of her as possible. God, but I loved her. She had made her choice, and I would ensure that she knew I was happy for her, regardless. I was happy for her, in a way. She had just married the love of her life.

"Thank you, Lily." I whispered as the song drew to a close. "Thank you for everything." I hugged her tightly for one brief, blissful moment, and then turned around and walked away.

I didn't allow my tears to fall until I was outside. The bitter cold of the night cut into me ruthlessly, and I welcomed it. It felt right. She would rest tonight in her lover's embrace, and I would be alone in the cold once more; alone in the cold _forever_ more.

I pulled out my wand and apparated, landing in the lobby of St. Mungo's. The receptionist looked up at my face, streaked by tears on one side and looking half-mad with my glassy, useless right eye no longer under a glamour, and her jaw dropped. I tucked my wand away and smiled once more, feeling a wave of pressure building in my head that was larger than anything I'd ever experienced.

I began hyperventilating in the anticipation of incomparable pain, and I was not disappointed. I didn't even have time to look around for a chair before my migraine hit me with all the force of a sledgehammer.

It was then that I passed out and the ground came up to meet me.

* * *

When I came to, I was staring up at a sterile white ceiling.

Alone, as I expected I would be.

I couldn't get my mind off of the attack, even when the nurse came to check my vitals. My migraine had receded in the interminable hours or days since I'd apparated into the lobby. Perhaps they had finally given me that pain potion I had been denying myself for so long...

With the constant pressure in my skull easing noticeably, my thoughts were lucid and focused: I would make those scums pay dearly for their treachery, just as soon as I was released from the hospital.

Lily Evans was Lily Potter now. She had found her equal and woven her soul with his.

She had no more use for me, no longer needed my support. She was gone.

My sun would never rise again.

It was at that precise moment that Albus Dumbledore entered and sat down before me. He didn't say a word about—nor did he seem the least bit surprised at the sight of—my un-glamoured right eye, which was now solid white from end to end. Instead, he told me fantastical tales about Voldemort. Stories of orphanages, artifacts and horcruxes. I didn't bother asking how he knew all of this information, or what he expected me to do about it. I just listened with rapt attention as he wove his tale. I knew what he was trying to say, and I let him. I wanted him to tell me everything.

Perhaps he didn't understand what I was willing to do if Lily was threatened, or perhaps he knew better than anyone what I was capable of.

As he spoke, I felt a smile come unbidden to my face. Even though my world was now enveloped by the night, there was a bright beacon of light shining right in front of me. I could feel the pressure in my head receding further than it had in years, and I nearly cried in relief.

This was what I had searched for. This was what I needed now.

It appeared that I had one more use before I became obsolete, after all.

_One last act as her avenger._


	11. Damocles

Lily Potter's face broke into a smile as Hermes, Severus' owl, rapped his beak sharply against the window until she pushed it open. She gave the tawny owl a treat and petted his head affectionately as she untied a thick envelope from his leg. The bird looked mournful, and didn't leave once it had delivered its message. "Are you waiting for a response, then?" Lily asked the bird cheerily, pushing the other window open and letting in the crisp, early morning air. The bird hooted softly.

It had been far too long since Sev's last letter. Couldn't he tell that she missed him? He never came to visit, either; it was always one excuse after another. She thought he and James had put their pasts behind them, but sometimes she wasn't entirely convinced...

As she unfolded the thick parchment, she was stunned to see a small vial filled with a viscous golden liquid fall out of the papers, along with a thick golden key. It had to be a Gringott's key, but why would Sev...

Unwilling to finish that train of thought, she read through the first lines of the letter. A nostalgic smile brushed across her freckled face, but it was quickly replaced by a look of abject horror. She sat at the table, boneless, her eyes scanning the parchment frantically.

Unbidden tears came to her eyes, staining the parchment as she read the letter that finally opened her eyes to the truth she'd been hiding from all these years.

* * *

**_Damocles._**

Do you remember the conversation we had on the night before we left for Hogwarts for the first time? You were hiding in the park, terrified of leaving your parents. I told you not to worry, because I would always be right by your side and I would protect you. You looked up at me with wide eyes and said in a timid voice, "You promise, Sev?"

I puffed my thin, bony chest out proudly and proclaimed, "It's a promise!" and then we shook pinkies on it.

_Today I break my promise._

If you're reading this, Lily, then it means I have succeeded in killing Voldemort.

It also means that I am dead.

I've written this letter five times already, and I just can't think of a way to way to say exactly what I mean to say...

Let me start with a muggle fable. It is commonly known as 'The Sword of Damocles'. Perhaps you have heard it before, and perhaps it will better explain why you are reading this instead of hearing it from me firsthand.

Damocles was a fool who lived in Syracuse many years ago. He maneuvered his way to King Dionysius' side, gained the King's ear and sought the King's power. The King finally granted his wish, and Damocles enjoyed immense power and luxury for a time. He _gorged_ on it. Only after a long while did he finally look up and see a razor-sharp sword dangling above the throne by the finest of threads. He politely stepped down from the throne, terrified, and he never sought to sit on it again.

The Sword of Damocles is a warning to any who would seek power. A single, significant action is all that is needed to loose its wrath, and the sword waits with eager anticipation for the string to break so that it might do violence upon its master.

Voldemort should have heeded the lesson of Damocles.

The moment he targeted you was the moment he assured his own destruction. As soon as I finish this letter and give it to Hermes, to be delivered upon my death, I will disappear. I will hunt Voldemort to the ends of the earth, and anyone who stands in my way will be cut down. I will destroy every separated fraction of his soul; if you're reading this, then it means I had to drag the last piece of him down to the gates of Hell myself.

I created a new spell for him, did you know? Dumbledore told me that the one weakness that Voldemort has is that he cannot love. I decided to show this Dark Lord just what he is missing, and how furiously I envy him for it.

I'm not doing this for the Wizarding World. I'm not doing it for the Order of the Phoenix. I'm not doing it for Albus Dumbledore. I'm not doing it for world peace.

_I am doing this for you._

I am doing this because you are the one thing in this godforsaken world that I cannot—_will not_—go without.

_And if the fates deign that one of our lives shall be forfeit, it is without hesitation that I will offer up my own._

The next paragraph is for your husband James. Please read it out loud to him:

"Severus says that he didn't do this for you, and that he still hates you with every fiber of his being. Don't think that this releases you from the promise you made to him on our wedding day. Keep me safe, and never make me sad. If you make me sad, then Severus will become a poltergeist and push you into a vat of corrosive acid."

Thank you for humoring an old friend one last time. If you'll keep reading, there is much that I still wish to say.

I told you once how I truly felt about you, and then covered up my mistake with a lie. That lie turned into hundreds, then thousands, and I'm still not sure if you ever truly believed me.

I sincerely hope that you did: I would not want you to be so cruel.

I am, at long last, parting with my lies. It feels good to write this, even though I know that the only way you will read my words is if I am no longer there to see your reaction.

I told you that I would never love another, and I hope you understand now just how sincerely I meant it. My only regret is that you no longer need me by your side. The memories I made with you were the most cherished in my life, and I count it as an honor that I was able to protect you for a time. I count it as the highest honor that my final act in life will be to ensure your survival.

Enclosed is my Gringott's key, and Hermes is yours as well. Please care for him. Every facet of my estate is hereby bequeathed to you. My house, my investments, my potions and supplies, every single thing I claim as mine. The vial is filled with a 12-hour dose of a potion called _Felix Felicis_. Look it up. I'd give you more, but it's dangerous to overdose on and I need the rest of my stock to hunt Voldemort with.

Take a sip if you're ever feeling overwhelmed. I guarantee that it will put a smile on your face.

There isn't much I call my own, but what I have is yours without reservation. All I've made and all I am, I have always belonged to you. Please do not judge me, or your husband, too harshly when you find my journal. I left it intact, seeing as I no longer have a reason to hide it. Just know that it is the truth.

The last request I will make is perhaps a selfish one: smile when you think of me. _Do not mourn my passing. _I only regret that this is the last sacrifice I can make for you.

Be happy, because all I have ever needed was for you to be happy.

You know I've never been much for poetry, but I decided to sum up what I feel for you in two short, easily quotable sentences. Rest assured; it will be the very last time I ever write such trite, romantic drivel. I promise.

_-_

_The setting sunlight framed your face; I truly came alive, _

_for my entire life was lived inside your verdant eyes. _

_I will not ask forgiveness for the things that I will do, _

_But I pray that I'm the only man who ever dies for you. _

_-_

Ever, always, only yours,

_-Severus Snape_

Post Scriptum: I'll be waiting for you in the next great adventure.

Post Post Scriptum: And for God's sake, don't pick Potter next time!


	12. Epilogue

The funeral of Severus Snape was a small, quiet affair on the lone hillside outside of Spinner's End.

It was fitting. _Just the way Sev would have liked it,_ thought Lily. He had always hated large crowds, always hated people who told him 'good job, well done' without knowing a damn thing about him.

In fact, she was quite sure that she and Albus Dumbledore were the only ones there of their own volition. The short list of guests included just her husband James, Remus, Sirius and the Headmaster. They all kept glancing at their watches surreptitiously. If Severus were here, he'd probably kick them all out. Especially James. Sev would call him an arrogant toerag, and Lily would let out an irritated huff while concealing a smile. It was so comfortable, watching them bicker like they were back at Hogwarts...

Fighting against the painful memories swirling around inside of her, she cracked a smile and held onto it like a lifeline.

It was the least she could do, really. All he'd asked of her, as he prepared to run headlong towards his death, was that she smiled when she thought of him.

The recollection brought tears to her eyes. She'd been crying a lot lately, and the only thing that helped was reading his words, over and over again.

She had no idea that he had kept a journal, however infrequently he wrote in it. She had no idea that he'd bequeathed it to her, that it contained the truth about Severus Snape. She never knew how beautiful and terrible his words could be. She never knew how ignorant she had been. It shamed her to discover how little she really knew about her best friend.

She never knew that her husband had hurt him so badly because of her. Even though it had happened years ago she never realized he had lost the use of one eye, never once wondered why he would disappear seemingly at random while he dealt with yet another migraine that she inflicted upon him with her nothing more than her presence... How could she forgive herself for never noticing things that were so readily apparent?

She never realized how deeply he had loved her. She never wanted to think about it, never wanted to dwell on how poorly she had treated him. She only cared that her best friend continued to be there to pick up the pieces when she was falling apart, never noticing that what he wanted more than anything was to hold onto the pieces that he'd put back together.

She was so incredibly blind, so unforgivably selfish.

_He deserved so much better than her._

Tears fell easily from the corners of her eyes as guilt overwhelmed her once more. She felt wretched.

It had been six days since Lily had received that fated letter from Hermes.

In the aftermath of Voldemort's demise, parties were being thrown spontaneously all across the Wizarding World. The Obliviators were working long hours trying to cover up all the casual, careless displays of magic that were being performed in front of muggles across the country.

Voldemort was found dead at Malfoy Manor, the victim of a new and particularly gruesome spell that transfigured his intestines into a thick noose of brambles which cinched around his heart until it burst. Lily now knew exactly what Sev meant when he said he'd created a spell to show Voldemort what love truly felt like. Realizing that he had loved her was one thing, but actually seeing the physical manifestation of the metaphor he equated loving her with... it was just too much. For her best friend, love was a noose of brambles cinching down around his heart, getting tighter every time he saw her smile. That knowledge would haunt her for the rest of her life.

But nobody knew who had actually done it. Nobody knew that Severus Snape had defeated the darkest wizard since Grindelwald. There were Unspeakables combing over the area, ensuring that the facts were indeed the facts. You didn't just announce that someone had killed someone else without having proof, after all. They wouldn't know for perhaps another week, and even then, the only thing that most people would say is, "... who the hell is Severus Snape?"

Remus asked her why he never joined the Order. He was on the side of light, and he did manage to kill Voldemort, right? He was obviously out to save the Wizarding World... the Order could have helped him. The Order might have kept him alive, even.

She couldn't bring herself to tell him that Severus Snape had killed Voldemort for her and her alone. He had wanted no part in their Order, wanted no part in their war. It sounded so arrogant to say it like that, but that was the honest truth.

Who even did that? Killing a dark lord and saving the world just for the sake of one wretched, selfish and slightly mad redhead...

_It was just like him. _

As the funeral wore on and snippets of conversation caught her ears, it became even more apparent that Severus was not well-liked. Sirius and Remus were reminiscing about their favorite pranks at Hogwarts. James was adding his running commentary for Dumbledore, whose eyes were twinkling rather mischievously, considering he was a member of the faculty.

This wasn't a funeral, it was a social gathering. She felt like she was the only one who really knew the deceased. She walked closer to the headstone, away from the chattering guests. It felt so quiet up on the hill, only the sound of the gently blowing wind reached her.

It had hurt her deeply to finally understand how alone Sev had been. She hated knowing that she had ruined him. Her meager, oblivious and depressingly platonic smile was all he knew of love. She'd always assumed that he had other friends to occupy his time, always believed that he declined their invitations simply because he was too busy to come. The truth was far more terrible and damning.

The truth was that he had no other friends, no flings, no girlfriends at all. No blokes to fly with and chat about birds with. Hers wasn't just the best present he received on his birthday, as he always said. Hers was also the _only_ present he received on his birthday. Nobody else cared to send well-wishes or gifts while he was alive, and nobody else came to his funeral; nobody else cared enough to pay their last respects to the man who had just saved them all from Voldemort's reign of terror. Nobody remembered him with fondness... Nobody remembered him at all.

She hated them for their indifference towards the unique and incredible man interred before her... but she hated herself so much more. She hated herself because she knew _precisely_ how unique and incredible Severus had been... and she had been indifferent towards him anyway.

She'd been his only friend. The only one he'd ever had, the only one he'd ever wanted. But he'd wanted so much more than her friendship. He'd wanted her heart, her soul.

She only regretted that she could never give him what he desired. What did she give him, instead? Pain. An overwhelming amount of pain inflicted consistently over more than a decade, without even the slightest compensation. Pain so keen that he cried tears of blood. Severus had never once relied upon her the way she had always relied upon him. He had always been so strong...

And he had _loved_ her. He had loved the terrible pain of loving her, simply because she had caused it. He'd even created a spell that physically expressed the emotional agony that was all he had ever learned of love. Sadness overwhelmed her at the thought of how frustrating that must have been; how incredibly lonely. She hated herself for being the source of so much pain and never once realizing how incredibly _obvious_ it had been. She felt the tears forming at the corners of her eyes again.

A sharp prod from her 'passenger' distracted her.

She rubbed circles on her distended belly affectionately, cooing quietly to her unborn child as he squirmed inside of her. It was a boy, they knew that much already.

She had wanted to name him Severus, but James was set on the name of his own father, Harold. Well, that was fine. There was another space for a name on the birth certificate, after all.

_Harold Severus Potter._

It was a good, strong name.

As she stared at the white marble headstone, she withdrew a small box from her pocket. Opening it, she placed the contents—an Order of Merlin, First Class—on top of the smooth stone. He had unwittingly bequeathed his award to her along with his estate, but she could think of no better place for it then next to its recipient.

"Sev..." she said, blinking back tears as she ran her fingers over the name engraved in his headstone. "There's so much I wish I would have said and done differently... So many things that I now regret. I wish I could've loved you the way you wanted me to. The way you deserved to be loved. I wish I could've taken away your pain _just once_ the way you always took away mine. I wish you were still here, patting my shoulder and telling me that everything is going to be okay. I wish you could've stayed long enough to see my son come into the world. I wish you could've stayed long enough to spend Christmas with us, a hundred Christmases together and a hundred years in between.

"I miss you so much... and there are so many things that I never had the courage to say. I just hope that wherever you are, you don't feel any more pain. I wish more than anything that you will never have to hurt again." With a mournful sigh, she wiped her eyes on her sleeve and gently kissed the top of the gravestone. "And I wish I would have kissed you when I had the chance." A secret smile brushed her face as the wind picked up, blowing her hair about as she spoke to her dearest friend.

"Thank you for everything. Thank you for loving me. I'll be back to visit you soon, Sev, and I'll make sure that your life wasn't wasted. I'll live my life for both of us, now. So just sit back and watch me, and let me make you proud... Goodbye for now, my friend. I love you. _Sit tibi terra levis_."

Wiping her tears away one more time, she stood and smiled once more, turning towards the setting sun and thinking of the future. The bright future that her best friend had forged for them all.

As they walked away from the solitary grave on the hillside, she found herself hoping for only two things:

1. That Harry would inherit her piercing green eyes.

2. That her son would grow up to be at least half the man that her best friend had been.

_See you on the next great adventure, Sev._


End file.
